


Betrothed... but not Beloved

by Winters_mistress



Category: marvel actors - Fandom
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Regency, Regency Romance, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 48,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winters_mistress/pseuds/Winters_mistress
Summary: The Earl of Wiltshire and his new fiancee must navigate London's High Society, changing social norms, and the burgeoning industrial age.





	1. Chapter One

June 1811 

Castle Combe, Wiltshire, England

Christopher rolled over in bed for approximately the 486th time that night. He started to open his eyes and squinted when he discovered his room had grown brighter than the last time he had woken up. With a heavy sigh he conceded it was time to start the day. He threw the covers off and walked over to the wash basin by the window. Splashing some water on his face, he felt himself grow more alert. He parted the long, dark blue curtains slightly and looked out towards the front entrance of his estate. It appeared the pathway leading up to his door was still empty. That cheered him slightly. No guests meant he was still free to do what he wanted in his own home. He let the drapes fall closed again as a small smile crept over his face. There was only one thing he wanted to do. He changed out of his pajamas and into a casual shirt and trousers. He ran a hand through his hair while glancing in the mirror and made his way downstairs. 

The bounce in his step was visible to the help as he passed them in the hall. Some smiled knowingly, some rolled their eyes. He nodded and acknowledged all of them, grouchy or no, as was his nature. When he finally made his way into the kitchens his eyes searched the many busy cooks and servant girls, all already hard at work preparing for the feast that was to be held later that night. Things were bubbling over in pots hung over the fireplace; silverware was being polished, and the special occasion china getting its final wash. And beyond the vegetables being chopped, the meat being tenderized, and the dough being kneaded, he spotted what he had come for. Standing by one of the few windows, the morning sun creating ribbons of chestnut in her ebony hair, Viola Oman was puncturing a flaky crust in preparation for the sweet fruit filling she had just finished. 

He walked over quietly and so deep into her work she was, she didn't notice him until his fingers landed on her waist. She quickly turned around and without a word he whisked her into the pantry and away from anyone's curious gaze. She tried to protest and started to list all the things that were still yet to be done but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. His thumb brushed off a dusting of flour that was on her cheek and he kissed her softly.

"Mmm... you smell delicious." He whispered as he nuzzled against her neck. "Your lips taste like apples and molasses."

"Well you did catch me in the middle of baking one of the pies we'll be serving for dessert tonight."

"Mm-hmm." His lips moved under her chin then pressed gently against her throat. "Is that cinnamon, I taste?" He kissed her a little lower. "Nutmeg?" Then even lower, sinking his tongue into her decolletage. "Sugar."

She giggled and pushed his head away. "We have no time for that. I have an entire household to run and you better put on something more suitable. You can't meet your future bride looking like a stable boy."

"Why not? She'll have to get used to it eventually." He grinned. 

She pretended to be unamused and chided him lovingly. "Now, now, Lord Evans. You know how important this is to your father.

Chris frowned. "I'm going to loath every second."

"Very well. He can't control your emotions. Only who you marry."

"It should be you." Chris's arms encircled her waist and he pulled her closer.

"My greatest wish..." she whispered. Her hands cradled his face and she kissed him once more. 

He broke the kiss and sighed, looking into her eyes. "My goodness, Viola. How is it after all these years, I still love you more every day."

"It's because you're a sentimental fool."

Chris chuckled and nodded knowingly. "You know me well, my love." He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her fingers. "I shall see you later?"

She smiled affectionately at him. "I certainly hope so."

He kissed her again and snaked through the maze of his harried staff before catching his breath in the main hall. He surveyed the cavernous room. The banners had been freshly scrubbed, the center table adorned with flowers, every inch of the stone floor washed by hand. It was gleaming. It was magnificent. It was a farce.

This was a country manor house, more accustomed to muddy footprints than pristine carpets. If his house had been turned upside for his impending guests, what would be required of him? He sighed and pushed one of the vases on a sideboard obnoxiously off-center. He smirked but his victory was short-lived as more of his servants went hurrying back and forth making sure everything was just so. His vase was returned to its proper place. His smile morphed into a resigned sigh and he trudged back up to his room. Had to look presentable, he told himself.

 

Chris stayed in his room reading for most of the morning and even well after lunch. When he finally noticed the shadows move from one side of the room to the other, he dog-eared the page he was on and changed into a crisp white shirt and starched breeches. He was combing his hair when he noticed the sound of horses' hooves trotting up the pathway to his front gate. He shrugged on his waistcoat and walked quietly down the upstairs hallway and looked into the entryway before making his presence known. He saw five of them. Two footmen draped in finery and almost identical to each other, an older man, and his two adult children. His father had told him his intended bride had a twin brother and while their features weren't exactly the same, their expressions certainly were. They both seemed none too impressed or thrilled to be here. They both had stormy blue eyes that appeared to take stock of every detail of their surroundings and cheekbones prominent enough to give them the look of nobility. They were both tall and dressed impeccably. They might be considered attractive if it wasn't for the look of disdain on both their faces. He saw his father hustle over to them from the drawing room, like he was greeting the king. Between handshakes and bows and curtsies it all was a bit nauseating. The young woman's gaze flickered up to where he was standing and though he initially felt flustered, she said nothing and gave him just the faintest hint of a smile. Knowing he couldn't hide up there forever, he cleared his throat and descended the massive staircase. 

"Christopher!" his father whirled around and called him over. "Come meet your future family. This is Lieutenant Flynn, his son Sebastian, and of course your intended, Miss Charlotte." Christopher felt as if his stomach was trying to gnaw its way out of his abdomen. His etiquette prevented him from doing anything other nod in acknowledgment of the men and bow slightly in front of his future bride. "Charlotte." He took her hand and kissed it quickly. "I can see my father was not overstating it when he talked of your beauty. I hope you find our house out here in the country suitable. Soon it will be your home as well." 

Her mouth trembled a little but she quickly recovered. "It's quite charming. Very different than our home in London."

"Oh yes. So.. quaint." Sebastian looked around at the centuries-old stone. His face gave away his displeasure but he knew better than to outright sneer.

Chris looked back to their father. "I have seen to it that everything is in place for dinner tonight. A feast suitable for your anticipated arrival. I have also made sure that the three best rooms be prepared for your arrival."

"Look at this lad, here." remarked his father. "Already acting like lord of the manor. "

"I can show you to your sleeping quarters, if you like." Chris offered.

"You can show our footmen where to set our luggage if it pleases you." Sebastian said with an edge to his voice, then tempered it with, "We'll find the way to our rooms when we're ready."

"Fair enough." Chris said, trying to keep his voice measured. He stared at Sebastian for what was perhaps a moment too long. Sebastian met his gaze, unwavering until finally Chris said, "May I show you around the ground floor and the gardens then?"

Sebastian opened his mouth but it was Charlotte who spoke. "That would be delightful, my lord." Her brother cast a sideways glance in her direction but she ignored it, instead taking Chris's arm when it was offered to her and following him outside.

Sebastian trailed behind them and when Christopher looked to his father, the older man just shooed the three of them on. "You kids go on and enjoy the flora and fauna. The Lieutenant and I will be in the library catching up."

"As you wish, Father. See you both at dinner."

 

He opened the french doors to the veranda that looked out onto the manicured gardens and acres of field and farmland beyond the estate. He pointed out how far his father's land went out and how some of the flowers by the frog pond still had their colorful blooms. He seemed especially proud of the stables that were being shrouded in gold and orange from the setting sun.

"Welcome to Wiltshire." He smiled at the siblings. "Hope you enjoy all the open space and fresh air. It still smells like Spring."

"It smells like manure." Sebastian grimaced and reached for his handkerchief. He held it up to his nostrils as to not be offended by the earthy aroma. "Maybe I will have you show me to my room, my lord. I'm feeling a bit faint out here."

Charlotte smirked despite herself. She saw the muscles of Chris's jaw clench but all he did was nod. "Of course, Sebastian. Right this way." Preoccupied with her brother, Charlotte took a moment to walk around and gaze at the beautiful land that stretched before her. Used to the loud, claustrophobic streets of the city, this place seemed like an oasis. It was gorgeous and green. Calming and vibrant. It was different enough to be unsettling. She wondered if she would ever feel at home here.

"Milady." The deep voice stirred her from her reverie. She could see Sebastian glowering at her from the back door but it was Christopher who was holding out his hand to guide her over the stepping stones that led back inside. He had a smile that was warm and genuine, not dripping with intentions like the men back in London. She couldn't help but smile back before taking note of his rough, calloused hands. Her own hand seemed so small once enveloped in his grasp and he all but lifted her with just one arm through the entryway. His eyes as they regarded her were almost disarming with their beauty and she struggled with what to say for a moment. 

"Dinner should be ready shortly." Thankfully, he spoke instead.

Sebastian sighed. "Guess I'll go upstairs and get ready."

"Ready?" Chris appeared a little confused.

"Yes." Charlottle smiled at him. "Wash up and change. You're not wearing that to the feast, right?" Her kind smile let him know she wasn't intentionally trying to insult him but he absentmindedly ran his fingers over his waistcoat just the same. Perhaps it was a bit worn. And one of the buttons was in serious danger of falling off. And... yes. It was inappropriate for a dinner welcoming his intended and her family to his estate.

"No, of course not." He smiled. "Aaron will show you to your rooms and I will see you in the dining room in an hour." 

Charlotte nodded. She looked back and Sebastian was already back in the entryway and heading for the stairs as the man who she assumed was the servant named Aaron tried to keep up. She lifted the hem of her skirts, dirtied by the trip Castle Combe, and hurried to meet them.

 

For an event that threatened to be horrifyingly awkward, dinner went on without much fuss. For once, the nonstop musings of their father were welcome as Charlotte and Sebastian weren't burdened with the banalities of small talk with strangers. Lieutenant Flynn and the Earl of Wiltshire traded battle stories and not entirely truthful tales of their valor. Once on opposite sides of the Irish Rebellion in 1798, they treated their differences now more like a university rivalry than the deep-seated hatred and desire for freedom that Charlotte knew was still bubbling beneath the surface. 

"Money makes even the most grievous wounds heal." Her father was fond of saying, and he repeated that phrase again tonight. It made her blood boil but she knew to stay quiet. This was neither the time nor the place for her unwelcome political views so she kept her mouth full of the perfectly seasoned meats and delicious wine that was before her. 

Her quiet also let her observe the house, its servants, and the customs of what was to be her new household. Everyone was polite and deferential and Chris only demonstrated warmth towards them in return. It was different compared to the way things were run in her own household where her father rarely learned the names of those that served him and Sebastian acted like he was doing his servants a favor by letting them wait on him. In fact, the staff in the Evans' home seemed genuinely affectionate towards their employers. 

"He acts like they are his friends, not his help." Sebastian whispered to her.

"I like it." She responded. "It's very modern." She added, knowing her brother hated any implication that he was old-fashioned.

"Hmmph..." He sat back and drained his wine glass. She smiled, knowing she had won that round.

"So how do you like our modest little house?" Chris's father asked her.

"Oh it's... enchanting." She grinned at him. "I don't know if I'll ever figure out all these different rooms."

"Well, I suppose it's a lot less fancy than your townhouse in London. We haven't really spruced up the place much in the last few years. But I'm sure you'll give this place the woman's touch it needs once you start living here. After a while, you won't even miss the city."

"But I won't always be here." Charlotte said before she could stop herself. "I can't leave London completely. So much of my life is there."

"Yes, but once you become Chris's wife your life will be with him."

She turned to Christopher. "But won't you spend some time in London as well? Our finances would allow for two houses."

Chris seemed reticent to speak and luckily his father did it for him. "Christopher in the city?" He let out a rumbling guffaw. "Now that is something I would like to see. That boy would shrivel and die if he wasn't near open spaces and forests as far as the eye could see."

Charlotte didn't care if her face belied her disappointment. "But London is my home." she said weakly.

"Not for much longer, dear." Her father said soberly. "That decision has been made for you. But the wedding is not for a few months. That gives you plenty of time to get accustomed to country life and even make a few trips back to London to say goodbye to your friends."

They were right. She lowered her gaze and went silent in defeat. She knew her gender prevented her from having any say in the matter. She declined any of the desserts offered to her and while the men retired to the library with their sherry and snuff she excused herself to go to bed.

As she made her way up the stairs she felt Chris's hand gently reach for her own. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. That was a terrible way to find out you have to give up your former life. Honestly, I didn't know you would be here exclusively either." She looked at the floor and he spoke again. "This place really is wonderful once you get familiar with it. I promise in time you'll love it as much as I do. You won't even miss that crowded, noisy city."

She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't know anything about me or my city." She hissed at him. "Good night, Lord Evans."


	2. Chapter 2

Castle Combe, Wiltshire

Two Weeks Later

 

Lord Evans rode his horse through the brush at breakneck speed until he came to a clearing. It was at the top of a hill far enough away from the house to have the weight of expectations and pleasantries lifted from his shoulders. And there, sitting under the crooked arms of an old apple tree, she was there.

She was lovely in her pale green frock without even trying. He watched her for a moment, laying out the cheeses and breads. Pulling out the goblets carefully and setting aside the wine before finally looking up at him and smiling.

He reached into his satchel and pulled out some fruit. A hodgepodge of apples, peaches, and even some juicy, prized strawberries. "I stole these from the kitchen." He said with a rakish grin.

She shook her head in mock rebuke. "You should save the best things for our guests."

He shrugged his shoulders and tossed a peach into her lap. "You really should stop calling them guests, you know." He placed his offerings next to hers and sat beside her. "They'll be here all summer and then after that they will be family. This is going to be their home."

"This is OUR home." She tensed up. "At least, I thought it was."

"Of course love." He kissed her cheek. "This has been your home since the day you and your mother showed up on our doorstep. My marriage won't change that."

"It's already changed things." She said softly. He looked at her questioningly as she continued. "I mean, we're out here. Sneaking around the woods just for a moment alone. I used to be able to spend hours in your bed."

Chris lowered his head. He took a deep breath before answering. "We've been over this before, Vi. Our house is failing. Our money is dwindling and the revenue we used to depend on is drying up as well. People aren't as interested in the crops we grow or the cows we raise or even the horses we train. If we want to keep this house we are going to need capital and the Flynns are practically drowning in cash. Money that is ill begotten, I fear. But I don't see another way. Wealthy they are, so unfortunately we need them as desperately as they want our title and claim of nobility."

She took his face in her hands. "I understand why, you know. It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Well... I don't like it either. But I'm the only heir, I don't have much of a choice. Marrying Charlotte means I get to keep the house we grew up in."

She didn't meet his gaze and instead fidgeted with a loose thread on the cuff of her sleeve. "I don't like them."

He took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. "Yes... they're different. I always feel like they're bored and it's somehow my fault." She looked at him and her dark eyes were swirling with dismay. He caressed her cheek and wound his index finger around one of the curls that framed her face. "I hate how hard this is on you."

She leaned into his touch and delicately kissed the inside of his wrist. He smiled and she saw the warmth in his eyes. "Christopher?" she implored softly.

"Yes love?"

"Promise you won't leave me?"

Her earnestness made him ache. Rarely did Viola display such raw emotion and vulnerability. "Never." He pressed his lips to hers, delicately at first, then with more urgency. She responded and he could feel the difference as he held her. Her fingers tugging on his hair, her breath coming faster.

He pulled away and he had that all-too familiar expression on his face. The spark of desire had ignited and he pressed his skin against hers with longing. "Now Miss Viola, I didn't come all the way out here to talk about the Flynns." He said in that deep voice that resonated in her core.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I know what you came out here for." She smirked and laid back on her elbows.

He moved on top of her, his thighs on either side of her hips. "Oh?" He feigned innocence. "What's that?"

"This..." She unlaced her bodice and pushed her chemise down her shoulders. He bit his lower lip and dipped his head, kissing down her sternum while caressing one of her breasts in his hand. His mouth traveled south, his lips closing over one of her hardening, pink nipples. His other hand caressed her calf, gliding over her knee, pushing her skirts up to her waist. He sat up and hastily loosened his pants, shoving them down his legs before positioning himself between her thighs. He gathered her in his arms and whispered against her neck. "You are my first love, my only love, my forever love. It is always you and you alone." Her response was a delicate, breathy sigh as he entered her. His fingertips for a moment clenched almost too tight on the flesh of her back as he was overwhelmed with sensation and then no more words were needed.

 

He was sitting up, cradling her in his arms as she rested her head on his chest. Her fingers lazily threaded through his chest hair while his own hand was coiled in her wavy, raven tresses. They sat quietly, watching the afternoon sun dip below the tree line, dappling the forest floor with glints of gold and amber.

"I suppose they will be missing me in the kitchen soon." she said softly.

"Yes, I wager it's time we both headed back."

"Should I poison her tea?" She asked in jest.

Chris smiled but shook his head. "Now now. No need to vilify her. She is no more a willing participant in this than I am."

"Are you sure? I've seen her looking at you. I don't think she hates it very much at all."

"Oh you've been spying on her, have you?" Viola didn't answer but her face gave her away. "Well, I would never pretend to know what's happening in a woman's head but I daresay Miss Charlotte Flynn doesn't fancy me at all."

"Well then she's an idiot on top of being a snob."

Chris let out a guffaw. He kissed the top of her head and embraced her tightly. After some time, it was starting to grow dark. "The shadows are getting long, my love."

"I know."

"Let's get home before they start to wonder about us."

"Yes, my lord." She said with a contented smile. They finished getting dressed and gathered up their picnic. With her seated in front of him, Chris commanded his steed to waste no time returning to the manor house.

 

"Christopher?" He was halfway up the stairs when the airy, female voice called at his back. He turned around to smile then saw it was Charlotte.

"Charlotte." He quickly recovered and his smile went from sentimental to dutiful.

"May I have a word with you, my lord?"

"I was actually just on my way to get ready for dinner."

"Oh, it will only take a moment. You know I looked for you earlier and you were no where to be found."

"Yes, I was... out... went for a bit of a ride on my horse. Just a little sojourn to clear my head."

"I figured as much. It had been hours since anyone had seen you and I was feeling restless so I went looking for you."

"Oh." He felt his neck growing hot. "Wasn't meaning to be so evasive. Sorry you didn't find me."

"Oh but I did, Lord Evans. I actually found you rather quickly. It looked like a lovely picnic." Her face was icily stoic.

He shook his head and looked at the ground. "I'm sorry. I-"

She took a step closer to him and took one of his hands in both of her own. "Christopher..." she said again, her voice now barely above a whisper. "It's all right." He looked up and her smile seemed genuine. The corners of her eyes crinkled with what seemed like sincere affection. "I appreciate you trying to be subtle about it."

He looked at her, trying to figure out why she was being so pragmatic about the whole thing. "You're not angry?"

"Angry? No. Why would I be angry? Perhaps if I was jealous or something I would be upset. But no. Not angry in the slightest." She pursed her lips and thought for a moment before speaking again. "My lord, may I ask you something?"

He was apprehensive but answered her anyway, "Of course."

"Do you love her?"

He was taken aback but her face seemed to convey no concealed intentions. He answered her honestly. "I've loved her my whole life."

"Hmm..." she appeared to think about that for a moment before continuing. "And you think she loves you?"

"As much as one can be certain about another's feelings, yes. I do think Viola loves me."

Charlotte gave him a genial smile that was completely not what he expected. "Well that's wonderful. I'm actually very relieved."

Chris looked at her, a bit confused.

Her eyes were hopeful as she chose her words carefully. "There is someone back in London. Someone I am quite fond of." She looked down, her long lashes brushing against a reddening cheek. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but, maybe you understand? I would like it if I could be honest with you. We are to be partners, after all, yes? Maybe things will be easier if we respect each other enough to be truthful and... perhaps don't completely hate each other?" She looked at him beseechingly.

"Yes." He nodded, trying to process all she had told him. "Yes, of course." She stared at him, and for the first time he noted she seemed a little unsure of herself. "Milady, all things considered, I really do think I should freshen up before sitting next to your father."

This elicited a soft laugh and she felt a little of the weight she carried lift from her shoulders. She nodded in agreement. "Right you are, my lord. I shall see you in the dining room."

 

Sebastian gnawed at a tender bit of pheasant. He pushed a delicate bone to the edge of his plate and divided his gaze between Lord Evans and his sister. He sensed a new warmth between them, the air of awkwardness seemingly dissipated. Chris seemed to smile at her with affection and she looked pleased in return. Sebastian mused on that for a moment before remembering that he didn't care. If they liked each other, better for him. Anything that made her less mopey had his approval. Their fathers must have felt the shift too, exchanging knowing glances with each other as they noticed Chris filling up her wine goblet with a grin and her sipping from it with cheeks plumped up in joy. Sebastian could tell everyone was just so damned pleased with themselves that it took every ounce of strength he possessed to not roll his eyes at the whole affair. All the happiness that was suddenly at this dinner table was making him queasy.

"Are you all right Sebastian?" He looked in the direction of his sister's voice. "You appear a bit out of sorts."

"Well, I admit I am feeling a bit green around the gills. Perhaps it is time I retire for the evening." He turned to Lord Evans. "Would it be possible to have a glass of port brought up to my bedroom? I should like to sip it as I get ready for bed."

"Certainly." The would-be Earl responded. "I'll have it sent for straight away." He signaled for his steward and gave him his instructions.

Sebastian dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin and placed it on his still half-full dinner plate. "Sorry to cut my night short. I will see all of you on the morrow."

"Feel better brother." Charlotte said softly as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Good night."


	3. Chapter 3

Charlotte sat in front of the mirror for a good half an hour before finally giving up. She had never been adept at doing her own hair and she certainly wasn't going to get better any time soon. Damn her fumbling fingers and damn her lack of foresight at not bringing a handmaiden to help with such feminine matters. She gave up and quickly braided the whole mess and swirled it into a tight bun. What difference did it make anyway? It was only breakfast. Satisfied with her appearance, she pinched her cheeks one last time for peak rosiness and stepped out into the hallway. She padded quietly past the other bedrooms and noticed Chris's steward, Aaron, coming out of Sebastian's room trying to silently close the door behind him. He froze in horror and stared at her. She gave him a nonchalant shrug and smiled to let him know she was not interested in divulging any secrets today. He nodded his gratitude and she nodded back in acknowledgment, wondering if there was anyone her brother couldn't, or wouldn't, seduce.

He nodded his gratitude and she nodded back in acknowledgment, wondering if there was anyone her brother couldn't, or wouldn't, seduce

After a quick breakfast of bread with jam and tea, Charlotte intercepted Chris as he tried to sneak into the kitchens. "My lord, can we take a walk?"

"Of course." He put on his dutiful smile. "Would you like to see more of the gardens or perhaps what remains of the maze?" 

"Honestly anything outside would be lovely. It is a glorious day out."

"Of course, Miss Charlotte. It would be my pleasure."

Christopher led her down multiple winding paths and flower-lined walkways behind the manor house. Charlotte was grateful for his guidance, certain she would be utterly lost if forced to navigate the sprawling gardens by herself. Tiny rocks crunched under their feet as they meandered around the property, finally stopping at a crumbling facade that still whispered of the beauty that once stood there. "This used to be a small conservatory. My mother would come out here and tend to her flowers and a few herbs. Gardenias were her favorite. The house in the spring would be overwhelmed with their aroma as she proudly displayed them in every room." Chris took a moment. "When she passed away my father forbid them from the house. Haven't seen one since." He looked at the ground and grew silent for a short spell. Charlotte eyed him and let him have whatever time he needed. "Anyway..." he eventually continued, "no one came out here for years to tend to any of the plants and when the fog of grief finally lifted a lot of this building had fallen into disrepair. I've thought about reconstructing it but... somehow I just, I don't know... the money for it goes to other things, I suppose."

"Do you remember what it used to look like?"

"Every detail."

"Good. Then we can get to work on restoring it." Christopher looked at her incredulously. She grinned and squeezed his hand. "Consider it a wedding present."

They walked further along the twisting trails in silence, Lord Evans still in mild awe. When they finally got to the end of the manicured lawns and walkways and strolled into the wild meadows beyond the barn and stables, Chris turned to her. "What happened to your mother?"

"Consumption." she answered matter-of-factly. His eyebrows furrowed in sympathy but she shook her head. "It's all right. Sebastian and I were quite young. I don't remember all that well. We weren't told much other than she was very sick. One morning we came downstairs and were informed we would be spending some time at our aunt's house. We heard not a word from our father until he came to take us home one day and told us she had passed away. I know he didn't want two children to have to witness the slow death of their mother but I felt a bit cheated that I didn't get to say goodbye. One day she was there, being brave for us; she looked tired and pale and I remember her trying to hide her coughing. And then she was gone." 

Chris looked away as they continued their stroll. There was much he wanted to say and ask but etiquette prevented him. She also seemed to enjoy the reprieve of silence, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, when they were to the point of the manor house being a small speck on the horizon she turned to him. "Christopher, let's say we lighten the mood a bit. Will you tell me about her?" 

He looked at her, unsure of what to say. "My mother?"

"No, silly. Viola."

"Vi? What do you want to know about her?"

"Well, I enjoy a good love story. Tell me about you two."

Chris thought about it and a small half-smile lit up his face. "Will you tell me about your mystery man in London?"

Her eyes shone with mirth. "You tell me your romance, I'll tell you mine?"

"Something like that."

"Very well. A story for a story. Might as well get to know each other if we are to spend the rest of lives together."

Chris's visage dimmed a little. "Sure." He took his frock coat off and laid it on the dewy grass near a small creek that babbled beside a footpath. "Why don't we sit." 

Soria, Spain

1795

The seven-year-old girl ran through the hilly, cobblestone streets of her hometown. She was eager to bring home the butter and herbs she had negotiated so hard for. She practically tumbled through the front door, careful not to drop her newly acquired purchases as she called out to her mother.

"Mama! Mama! I did really good today! Mama? Where are you?" She quietly put her hard-won treasure on the kitchen table and looked around anxiously. "Mama?"

"Shhh..." her mother emerged from behind the basement door. She quickly whisked her daughter onto the shadowy stairs alongside her and pulled the door closed behind them.

"Mama?" she was quickly shushed again. She heard the unmistakable sound of heavy boots on their hardwood floor. "Mama, where's Papa?"

Her mother was silent until the footsteps faded. One deep, tired voice could be heard very close to where her and her mother were hiding. "He's not here." The accent was unfamiliar to Viola. "And I don't get paid enough to kill a lady and her kid."

"Viola." Her mother looked at her after the footsteps grew distant. Her voice was soft but her eyes were urgent. "We have to leave. It is no longer safe."

"But what about Papa?"

"I fear he is gone, my sweet girl. And they will come after us soon enough. We have to go."

Viola was scared but she knew enough to listen to her mother. It seemed like hours while they waited on those stairs for it to grow dark. She stayed behind the door as her mother made sure the coast was clear. Finally, she was waved over and Viola hastened to join her by her side. The sun was long gone and with only the moon to guide them, they made their way out of the city and into the quiet countryside. When they finally felt safe, they stopped to rest for the night but as soon as daylight broke they were on the move again.

With only the clothes on their backs, a modicum of food, and bravery born of desperation, they eventually made their way to the French border. There they met up with an old acquaintance of her mother's who was able to gain them passage on a cargo ship to England. Their destination was the growing port city of Bristol. After landing, Catherine inquired about work, and they were sent to a sprawling manor house in Chippenham, east of the city.

After landing, Catherine inquired about work, and they were sent to a sprawling manor house in Chippenham, east of the city

"And that's when our butler opened the door and I saw them standing there. They looked nervous and tired. Viola looked especially terrified so I stepped forward and ten-year-old me held out my hand. She took it with trepidation and I asked if she was hungry. She didn't answer; she just stared at me with these big, doleful eyes. I thought she was too scared to talk so I asked her again. 'I can show you to the kitchen. Miss Jenny makes wonderful cookies and baked apples. If you use your manners, she'll let you have some.' When she still didn't respond, her mother clarified. 'No English.' she said apologetically. I smiled at Viola and shrugged my shoulders. 'That's all right, I suppose. We'll be too busy eating to talk anyway'."

"It wasn't all perfect at the beginning, though. I mean, it was a blessing that they were there. My mother had been gone for over a year and my father continued to spiral. All but the most loyal of our servants left when they couldn't handle his drunken outbursts anymore. He had no interest in any of the estate's business dealings and often had not the means to pay even the weekly shilling to the lowest laundry maid. I will forever be grateful for those who stayed, surely we would be in even more dire straits had they not decided to remain. So, we were desperate for help and Viola's mother made herself indispensable. Worked from sun up to well past nightly prayers. Proved herself an excellent cook and also helped out with the washing until we could afford a full staff again. She also was the only person who could wait on my father without making him upset. Day by day, the house became a home instead of a mausoleum, buzzing with activity and fires in every room. Father even started to come to dinner again."

"Now, as happy as I was to see my father emerge from his room more often, I still at times was quite a brat. I may have tried my best to be a gracious host at that first meeting, but I soon got resentful at this little girl tagging after me wherever I went. I mean, I couldn't even talk to her at first, though she did pick up English pretty fast. And her mother started parenting me, which I was not very appreciative of. My father, preoccupied with his grief and whiskey, couldn't be bothered disciplining me, and our servants weren't about to scold the little lord of Wiltshire so I basically ran free."

"But Catherine couldn't raise Viola the way she wanted to without disciplining me as well. All of a sudden I was expected to sit still at dinner. Politely ask for things instead of just taking what I wanted from the table. I couldn't spend all day at the stables without being subjected to a bath before bed. And the lessons. Catherine convinced my father to hire a tutor for Viola and I. I pouted. I was like a feral cat forced into a cage. But I adjusted. And I started to see Viola as more than just a girl. She learned how to hold her own on a horse and soon could ride as far and as fast as I could. My father taught us fencing and more often than not, I was the one who was bested. Not just tagging along anymore, Viola and I were as thick as thieves. I showed her all the best hiding spots in the house and we would spend hours evading our parents, making up stories and giggling in the shadows of an unused staircase." 

"Then one day, much like any other, she ran past me during a game of tag. She was 15 and was 18. I had noticed girls before but never her, she always more of a mate than a love interest. But I felt her brush against me and.... it was like she changed in front of my eyes. She was no longer the little girl who practiced archery with me, or waded into the frog pond with me, she was a woman. A beautiful, lovely young lady."

"Well that revelation changed everything. All of a sudden there were things I couldn't do with her. No more swimming in our underclothes in the river. No more nights sneaking into each other's bedrooms to tell ghost stories. I could tell she felt slighted, that I didn't want to spend as much time with her. And of course, awkward as I was, I couldn't just let my feelings be known. It wasn't until her 16th birthday that I finally gathered up the courage to tell her how I felt. We threw her a small celebration where she was treated to all her favorite foods and even wine for the first time. One gift arrived before the party, however. A beautiful dress that she was to wear that night. When she first entered the ballroom, I completely lost my capacity for speech. She was radiant. The dress was a soft, golden color and she was the absolute picture of warmth and beauty. I couldn't stop staring at her. My father and I had bought her a few gifts and made her open them at once. I could tell she wasn't relishing being the center of attention but she still had a glow about her which let me know she was grateful. I was completely enraptured."

"During the meal in her honor, I had difficulty making small talk with her. After the dishes were cleared and most folk had gone to bed, I asked her if she would meet me in the middle of the maze. It wasn't overgrown yet at that point and impressive. No one hardly ever went out there, especially after dark, so I knew we would be alone and there, with the light of the moon casting a silver light on her features, I caressed her cheek in a way I had never touched another woman before. Her skin was the softest thing I had ever felt and before I even knew it, I had started to speak. 'You look beautiful tonight.' My lips whispered her name. I gave her no time to respond as my lips sought hers; at first tentative then urgently pressing against her own."

"I do not know if I can properly explain the way my emotions seemed to bubble and boil over now that there was finally an outlet for them. It was exhilarating and when I pulled away I could tell I had the stupidest grin on my face but I didn't even try to hide it. At first she smiled at me, then I noticed her eyes begin to water. Her tears finally spilled over and I was petrified. What had I done wrong? How could I have completely misjudged everything? That's when her face erupted into gleeful laughter. I must have looked incredulous because she laid a soft hand on my cheek and said, 'Well damnit, Lord Evans. I've spent years pining after you thinking you would never be interested in someone like me'."

Chris stopped and Charlotte smirked as she noted his cheeks flushing pink. "That was your first kiss?" Christopher nodded. Her smile grew. "At 18?"

He raised his eyebrows defensively. "Well, they're weren't many eligible young ladies roaming about Castle Combe, you know." She started to giggle and he could help but smile back. "Is that so bad? How old were you?"

Charlotte looked at him abashedly and bit her lip. Her eyes carried both guilt and mischief. "Younger than that." she finally admitted. 

He looked down, still smiling, but trying to avoid her gaze. "What can I say? It's very remote here. I was... sheltered."

Her fingers lightly brushed his knee. "Oh, I think it's terribly romantic. Very sweet. She is the only girl you've ever kissed."

"Yeah..." he nodded. He started to smile wistfully but his visage faded when he remembered his predicament.

She noticed the subtle change in him. "And?" she prodded him.

"And.. that was seven years ago." He said, trying to collect himself. "And I still wake up every morning eager to see her and every night fall asleep dreaming of her."

She looked at the blades of grass as they blew softly against her fingers. "Well that sounds lovely. I am sorry to have to play the interloper in your relationship."

He nodded solemnly and a heavy silence grew between them. They listened to the sounds of the brook and the occasional breeze that ruffled the leaves of trees that surrounded them.

After a few minutes he heaved a big sigh and appeared to have figured something out. He looked over at her with a grin and his eyes danced.

"What?" She couldn't help but smile back and gave him a gentle elbow to the stomach.

"It's your turn." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

She exhaled a long breath. "Very well then."


	4. Chapter 4

Lieutenant Thomas Lee Flynn had abruptly changed course. He had received word the West Africa Squadron of the Royal Guard had caught wind of their location and was speeding across the Atlantic to intercept them. He made the decision to split up his crew. He left only half of them on board, pretending to be spice merchants and had them raise the flag of Portugal, one of Britain's allies in the current skirmish with France. He then divided the rest onto rowboats and sent them to the friendly ports of Goree or Bance Island. He, knowing their exact location off the coast of Sierra Leone, went solo to the closest port of Fort James. No one would care much about a solitary man, and this way he could change his story to suit whatever situation he found himself in.

And that was how he found himself in this fetid, humid tavern mingling with the humans that civilization had spit out. Pirates, pickpockets, and prostitutes who were well beyond the age or attractiveness to command more than a few farthings.

He took a seat on a wobbly stool that was too high and his long legs barely fit under the rotted-out bar. He ordered a glass of the murkiest, worst-tasting whiskey he had ever tasted and tried to remain inconspicuous. He was about to inquire about perhaps letting a room upstairs for the night when he was shoved from behind.

"I know you." said a man, swaying on his feet.

Flynn looked him up and down and was unimpressed. "I highly doubt it." he said and turned back around.

The inebriated man poked him again in the shoulder. "You're that bloody turncoat." The lieutenant tried his best to ignore him but the man continued. "Flynn, right?" The utterance of him name caused Thomas to bristle. "All them speeches about freedom, rebellion and independence. Now look at you. Making a fortune by selling human beings."

Flynn clenched his teeth. "I assure you I don't know who or what you're talking about."

The other man reeked of sweat and piss and cheap booze. As he leaned closer, the stench was overwhelming. He pressed a filthy finger into Thomas's sternum, pushing hard. "You let down your people and your country. I should drag you out back and shoot you like the vile dog you are."

"He said he didn't know you." A voice came from the other end of the bar. "So why don't you stumble back to the gutter you climbed out of and let me drink in peace."

The lumbering instigator whirled around, looking for source of the insult. A sneer snaked across his lips when he saw him. He walked menacingly across the worn floor boards. "And just what would a fucking savage know about freedom? About anything really? Your kind isn't even smart enough to avoid being captured. You think after a couple of centuries you would have figured out something."

The young man bristled but his gaze never wavered. He took a long, slow swig of his rotgut liquor without blinking. He stood up after draining his glass and it was obvious how much taller he was, towering over the stocky drunkard. "And what wisdom and enlightenment can you lend to me with your obvious superior intellect?"

Having no pithy retort, the runt spit in his face. "I'm not taking any insults from a beast that should have been left in the jungle." He raised his arm to strike but the other man blocked it easily. He caught his wrist, yanking it awkwardly behind the man's back. The filthy vagabond winced and started to crumble. Once his knees hit the planks the victor turner to Flynn.

"We should probably leave. As charmless as he is, he has many friends. Before long we will be outnumbered."

The lieutenant threw a few coins on the bar and they hastily made their way out into the street. Walking quickly, it was still less than a few minutes before they heard a familiar voice call out from behind. "That's them!" Quickly beset by a motley assortment of 5 or 6 men, they fought their way out. They were aided by a relative sobriety not shared by their attackers and once free, ran until finally finding cover in an abandoned shop.

Able to catch their breath at last, they sat on the floor, hidden from anyone who would attempt to look for them through the window.

Flynn broke the silence first. "You know those men?"

"Well enough to know to know when one of them is itching for a fight."

"Are you from here?"

"No."

"You're a freed slave, yes?"

"Something like that." He seemed to think for a moment and then asked, "Is what he said about you true?"

Thomas heaved a big sigh. "Yes. I have made my living in the transport of slaves from here to the Caribbean."

The younger man exhaled loudly. "Shit."

"It would appear you helped the wrong man."

"Well, I don't regret beating up Max and his gang of ruffians."

"So why did you help me?"

"Well first of all, I just don't like them. And they're not too fond of me either. And I'm tired of them ruling this town by tormenting anyone they feel like. It's bad enough that that's the only place left here to get a drink. And every goddamn evening ends with a noisy brawl. And if he got it into his head that you somehow abandoned the country he talks about incessantly, all to make money for the English, well I'm sure he was gonna kill you."

"Yes?"

"Yes indeed, and I have seen way too many people murdered in front of me." He gestured toward Flynn's embroidered jacket and immaculate boots. "And besides, you look rich."

"Well, you are right about that last part." The lieutenant took a moment. "My name is Flynn, by the way. Thomas Flynn." He extended his hand.

The other man looked at it, then turned his head. "You can call me Anthony."

Flynn replaced his hand in his lap. "Very well, Anthony. I'm heading back to London. It would be wise, considering my current situation, if I had someone with me."

"You want my help to get you back home?"

"I would make the journey worth your time."

Anthony lowered his head as he considered the proposition. He finally looked the older man in the eye. "Guess I can't stay here anyway."

 

Chris interjected, "Slave trader?"

Charlotte sighed. "You should know about my father. He was a good man. When my mother was alive, anyway. A hard worker, a fisherman. We had a modest life for years, a small house in Wexford, but it was pleasant enough. And my parents, they loved each other fiercely. My father's passion and my mother's kindness made for a coupling that was unbreakable. She loved him more than anything and he protected his family and his lady love proudly. He saw her and us as his reward for all his hard work and sacrifice. The spoils of being a good man. When the United Irishman started to gain traction and there was word of a rebellion against England, he eagerly took part, willing to do anything to defend our way of life. He had to leave the fighting though when my mother fell ill. At first he was in denial, then he called every doctor who would come to our house. And when he lost her, it was just too much for him to bear. If your father wallowed in his grief, mine was angry. He took it personally that his wife was taken from him. She was always the steady hand, guiding him in the direction of what was right and good. And with her gone, he lost his moral compass. He was no longer content being a mere fisherman. His heart would never be mended so he pursued endeavors that would satisfy him financially." Charlotte sighed. "Anyway, he made quite a life for us by doing something reprehensible and when the trading of slaves was abolished back in '07, Father just went underground. He wasn't about to give up what was making him a fortune. At least until that encounter with the Royal Guard. That scared him enough that when his ship returned to London, he sold it immediately. He now uses his navigational skills and knowledge of the sea to run a fairly lucrative, legitimate trading business." She stared back in the direction of the house. "I didn't know how we became so wealthy but I should have. I should have asked questions, but I was too enraptured of our new townhouse in the Mayfair district. Too busy picking out fabrics for the dresses I wanted. Too enthralled with the excitement of being invited to parties thrown by society's elite." She frowned and looked down sorrowfully.

Christopher quietly slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it. When she looked up at him, his eyes were full of warmth not rebuke. "Do you think if you spoke to your father it would have changed things?"

"I suppose not."

"Then it will do no more good to dwell on it."

A faint smile played on her lips. "Perhaps, but I will always harbor regret."

He pressed her hand once again, before letting it go. "I must say, Miss Charlotte, that so far your love story is incredibly lacking in romance."

This elicited an honest laugh from her. "You are right, my lord. I am terribly sorry. I shall rectify that immediately."

 

May 1809

London

Upon returning home, Lt. Flynn had granted Anthony the prestigious position of butler -head of the entire household. It was the first time in his life he had ever commanded respect and he took his role very seriously. Among his many duties was watching over the prized china and silver, so like many in his position he slept in the butler's pantry, ready to confront anyone who tried to steal from his employer. One night while he was in bed, he heard a clamor in the alley outside. If he had been asleep, he may have missed it but he was up late working on his sketches as it was the only time he had to himself. He silently set aside the parchment and coal and reached for the large butcher's knife he kept on his nightstand. Bracing himself for an encounter with the would-be thief, he tore open the door, knife raised and a terrifying scowl on his face. To his surprise, it was the young lady of the house, Miss Charlotte. She at once looked petrified and guilty.

"Milady..." He quickly lowered the knife, "I am so sorry, I thought for sure you were someone after the silverware."

She shook her head. "Sorry about that. I was trying hard to be quiet and not wake anyone."

"What were you doing in the alley anyway? In the middle of the night? I would have answered the front door if you rang." He then took notice of the gown she was wearing that was disheveled, her ruddy complexion and glassy eyes that seemed to have a little difficulty focusing on his face.

"I was trying to sneak in and avoid a lecture from the Lieutenant."

"I see. Well you needn't worry about disturbing my sleep. I was already awake."

She looked past him and saw a single tallow candle illuminating a modest bed with a few sheets of paper and a piece of coal on it. "You were drawing?"

"I like to sketch at night sometimes when I can't sleep." She moved to get a closer look but he stepped in front of her. "No... please, milady. I'm not very good."

"Where did you get that coal from?" She asked. When he didn't answer, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Stole it from the kitchen? And I suppose when you use it up, you'll just pilfer another one?" Anthony stayed silent. "Those are for the fires, not your secret drawings." She wanted to appear menacing but her eyelids were too heavy. "How about I don't tell my father about you stealing from us and you stay mum on me coming home at dawn?" He nodded. "Good, I'm off to bed then."

He eyed her wobbly walk up the stairs. "Will you be all right?"

"I will be fine, Mr. Secret Artist. And if I end up on the floor somewhere, Sebastian should be home soon to scoop me up and toss me in my room." Anthony continued to monitor her perilous ascent to her sleeping quarters. When she disappeared from view he stayed vigilantly listening for sounds of a stumble. When he was satisfied enough time had passed that she surely made it to bed safely, he extinguished his candle and crawled between the sheets himself.

 

The next evening Charlotte approached Anthony as he was supervising the staff's preparation of dinner. "May I have a word with you?" She asked very sweetly.

Her discovery the night before was still fresh on his mind, but he had been counting on her not remembering much of their interaction. He agreed nervously. "Of course."

Alone now in the hallway, he noticed she had bit of an apprehensive look on her face as well. "Anthony," she began shyly, "when I woke up this morning I couldn't stop thinking about last night. About your little room and you sketching with only the bouncing light of a single candle and a piece of coal meant for the oven." She looked almost ashamed. "You have served this family well and if my father's tall tale is to be believed, you saved his life." She reached to a small table under the window. "Here." She handed him two parcels, one small, rectangular package atop a larger one, both wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. "It's a sketch book and a box of drawing pencils. I didn't know what kind you would like so I just asked for the most expensive ones. I figured those would be the best." He looked at her, too surprised to say anything. "And if you like, you can come to the conservatory after breakfast. It has amazing light in the morning. I go there to practice piano and sing at that time, and I am not very good at either of those things, so it's usually just me." She gave him a sheepish smile. "If you like. Or you can continue to draw in the dark."

He mumbled out a soft thank you and she blushed slightly. "You're welcome. I'll let you get back to work." And with that, she turned and headed for the dining room.


	5. Chapter 5

Anthony and Charlotte had settled into a pleasant daily pattern of meeting late in the morning in the conservatory. Some days they would chat as he diligently scribbled out his latest creation and she lazily played an easy tune on the piano. Other days he would be focused on his drawing so Charlotte would content herself and sing along with her playing, something not too distracting. Even when they weren't directly interacting, it was never uncomfortable.

It was during one of these times, when Charlotte was lilting out a soft aria that she was struck with a question. She turned around quickly and just as rapidly Anthony picked up his sketchbook and propped it up so she couldn't see.

"Anthony?" she gave him a sly grin. "Are you ever going to show me what you spend so many hours on?"

"I told you Miss Charlotte, I'm not very good. I would be embarrassed for someone who regularly tours art galleries to see my childish doodles."

She narrowed her eyes, conveying her disbelief. "Suit yourself." She turned back around and started plunking out one of her favorites, and one she knew Anthony enjoyed too. Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 8. She waited until her keen ears heard the familiar sound of pencil scratching color onto paper. She played a few more measures then spun around, just about lunging toward where Anthony was sitting at the table. Completely taken by surprise, Anthony tried to gather up all his supplies as pencils rained on the floor. She grabbed a corner of his portfolio. "Please Anthony. You listen to my dreadful singing and clumsy playing every day. We're friends, you know, I won't judge your work too harshly."

He sighed and gave up control of the book, looking down at his lap. She thumbed through the loose sheets until landing on one whose vivid colors and intricate detail stopped her hand. She gazed at it in awe. "Oh Anthony, this is gorgeous. The palm trees look so real. The sky is the exact same blue as a clear summer's day. And the reflection of the sun on the lake is so perfect the paper actually looks wet. This whole scene, the blooming flowers, the animals sleeping by the water. It is so tranquil, so serene. It's... it's like paradise."

"Yes." he said softly.

"And this girl, here in the middle." She smiled a little. "She kind of looks like me."

Anthony still didn't meet her gaze. "Yes."

"But..." her eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth. "She's an angel." He nodded. This caused her to let out a giant laugh. She tenderly placed her hand on Anthony's cheek. "Oh my sweet Anthony. I'm afraid I am no angel."

"But it is how I see you."

Her smile grew at the farce of that. "Surrounded by cherubs and a heavenly light?"

"As the most beautiful thing in the world." He said it so softly for a moment she thought she misheard him. All the humor drained from her face as his own expression showed only seriousness. When he finally did look up at her he said, "Not many people show me kindness."

It was a raw, painful truth that she had willfully blinded herself to. Her eyes stared into his; dark reflections of a life she could never understand. Now she was the one who stared and ached and she realized the beauty in him that should have been immediately apparent. The strength and vulnerability and courage and hurt. When she did find her voice it was barely a whisper. "Anthony..." Her hand still pressed to his cheek, her thumb lightly caressed his cheekbone. He lowered his eyelids, savoring her soft caress and when he opened his eyes he whispered her name in return.

"Charlotte..." He continued to look at her, searching her face and perhaps seeing what he had longed for. He reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers against her jawline, stopping only when his hand gently cradled her face. She closed her eyes, seeming to bask in his touch. When she opened them again, his gaze was almost hopeful now and he slowly, tentatively leaned in and kissed her. It was as if a stroke of lightning surged through her body. Every cell of her skin quivered and grew warm. For a moment she forgot everything except the feeling of his soft lips pressing onto her own. When the storm finally subsided she pulled away quickly, eyes wide and mouth agape. She hurriedly collected her skirts and dashed out of the room and up the stairs.

 

She had almost reached her bedroom when she heard his voice. "Oh Charlotte..." She sighed and turned around as Sebastian padded up the stairs to join her. "Sister.." he started, sizing her up. "What the hell happened with you and our butler... Andrew?"

She frowned at him. "Anthony."

"Right. Anthony. What happened between you and... Anthony?" He pronounced the other man's name dramatically.

"Sebastian, I don't know what are you talking about."

"Did you get angry with him?"

"No." She buried the smile that was threatening to emerge and pretended to look confused instead. "Why would you ask that?"

"Well, I had been enjoying a lovely cup of ceylon and the newspaper when I heard you laugh like a buffoon. When I went to investigate I saw him running back to the butlers pantry like the devil himself was chasing him. And I know that is most uncharacteristic because usually when I pass by you two are chatting about something pretentious or you're singing something terribly off key, which, if he hasn't run screaming from you yet, I don't know why he would choose today." She gave him her best glower. "And I know how terrifying you can be when you're cross so I figured maybe that was the reason he looked petrified."

She didn't answer save a bemused expression.

Sebastian looked disappointed. "No fight then? Not even a raised voice?" She still didn't respond. "Well damn, I was hoping for something interesting to happen in this house."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"Well it wouldn't be the first time." At this she couldn't help but let the tiniest grin escape. "What do you two talk about for hours any way?"

"Oh everything..." she answered, her heart finally settling back into a normal rhythm. "Where we are both from and how it's different from London. Politics, our favorite artists and musicians. He has no formal training but his ear is impeccable. I really hope I can take him to the opera soon."

"Well then I hope you plan on wearing your most fabulous ensemble since everyone wil be looking at you."

"Let them. Other people's opinions are no worry of mine. Anthony would make as fine an escort as any other man in this city."

Now it was Sebastian's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh how very liberated of you. You going to assume the role of freedom fighter like father once did?"

She sighed. "No."

"Good. That didn't work out so well for him, did it?" She was not amused and proceeded to show it. "Well... opera or no, your mornings sound dreadfully boring."

"I assure you, they are not. Anthony is one of the kindest and sweetest men I've ever met."

"He'd have to be to put up with your singing."

She ignored the comment she had heard a thousand times before. "You could join us, you know. You always did have the better voice."

Sebastian gave her a dismissive look. "True. But you know I don't sing anymore."

She sighed. "Fine."

Sebastian eyed her curiously. Charlotte never gave up an argument that easily. There was something different about her. There was a smile she was trying desperately to cover up and a light dancing behind her eyes. He narrowed his gaze. "You're hiding something."

She looked at him, both of them sizing up the other. She saw an eyebrow lift as he seemed to figure something out. His voice was lower now when he spoke. "I've gone with you to many parties. We have encouraged and applauded each other's sexual conquests. How you spend your evenings and early mornings and who you spend them with has never been a concern of mine. Do you know why?" His long fingers curled around the soft skin of her upper arm, pressing down almost to the point of pain. "Because all those men you gave yourself to; they all have money. Or a title. Or power. Something to give in return."

She tried to pull away as the flesh on her arm started to throb. Sebastian tightened his grip. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "You are too pretty a prize, sweet sister, to be given to the peasant class." She finally tore her arm free and walked quickly to her room. "See you at dinner." He called as her door slammed shut.

One Week Later

It had been days and Charlotte had successfully avoided seeing Anthony. Taking to her bed under the guise of headaches and a general malaise, she got by on the soups and bread her lady's maid brought her. Her "illness" allowed her to forego conversation, which she very much did not feel like engaging in.

For Anthony's part, he was slightly relieved he didn't have to face her. The lack of her presence made the house feel empty to him. He was utterly uninspired to draw and the conservatory was empty, not that he would go in there without her. He was withdrawn, not as quick to banter with the house guests he announced and his smile slightly hollow.

He was getting ready for bed one evening, double-checking all the cabinet locks and sitting down to remove his shoes when he heard a soft knock on his door. He figured it would be the steward, reviewing what needed to be done at the start of the following day but when he opened the door it was her. His breath caught in his throat and immediately words started spilling out. "Miss Charlotte. I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please accept my apology. I will also make amends to your father as well, if you like. I owe him so much and I failed him with what I did. And I will understand if your wish is to send me away. I will give you no argument. I will be gone within the hour if that is what you want, milady. I am so, so sorry. Truly sorry about ev-"

"I haven't stopped thinking about you for days." She blurted out. She stared at him, her eyes bewildered and hopeful. He stared back at her, utterly lost as to what to say. Her heart was beating so hard, she was sure he could see it's ardent rhythm under her skin. The silence grew around them until her voice cracked a reckless plea. "May I come in?"

He stepped aside and pushed the door open farther, still incredulous that she was here, in his room. She looked at him, her expression one of desperation and desire, her voice breathless. "Anthony?"

"Yes?"

"Close the door."

The instant he did it was impossible to decipher who's hands were where. A scarf was loosened and a shirt torn open with no regard for buttons. Hair pins plucked from a modest coif so a waterfall of thick wavy hair spilled over ivory shoulders. One set of fingers deftly unfastened the suspenders that held up his trousers while the other trembled, nervously trying to navigate the tight laces of a corset while the chest beneath it rose and fell with rising urgency.

Clothing discarded and flesh now exposed, they tumbled into his bed. The yearning finally liberated they indulged in whatever lust led them to. Hunger was satiated with little direction. Skin clawed, hair pulled, the most delicate parts of them teased and tasted. Throats that vibrated with cries of desire and mouths that were nearly bruised in rapturous lovemaking.

When it was over, they laid there catching their breath. Sweat glistened on both of their recumbent forms. She gave him one final look and kissed his cheek before laying her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled the blankets over them. He watched the candle by the bed cast shadows on her face as she fell asleep and finally, he too succumbed to slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

Charlotte looked out over the horizon . As the hills and fields of Castle Combe came back into focus, she turned to her right. Christopher was looking at her with a barely contained smirk. "Oh I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, cheeks instantly flushing, "I have a tendency to get carried away."

Chris shook his head, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. "It's quite all right. It was a very... good story." He could tell by the way she started studying the folded hands in her lap that she was embarrassed. "I understand now why you want to stay in London." he said softly.

She nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Hm." He seemed to think about it but didn't appear happy with any solution that came to him. "And Sebastian doesn't approve?"

She looked at him. "Well he wouldn't..."

"He doesn't know?" Chris looked surprised.

"Nobody knows." She whispered.

He furrowed his brows not in judgement but empathy. "Sounds... difficult."

"Sneaking around your own house? Oh, it's very frustrating. I suppose it's different for you, though. Lord of the Manor."

"Yes. My love for Viola is no real secret."

"Will that not change after we are wed?"

"I..." Chris struggled for the right thing to say. "I could never give up Viola. Not for all the gold in the world. But I will also practice discretion. I would not like to crudely disrespect my wife." She snorted a little giggle. "You don't think that's possible?"

"No..." she smiled at him. "You're just so heartbreakingly noble."

He looked down. "I can work on that." That made her laugh outright and when he looked up he had just the smallest half-smile. "Listen, I know things are going to have to change. We won't like some of it. And I know London is your home. I know you love it there. I don't want to take that away from you. But we're going to have to try to make living here together as happy as possible. This is certainly nothing like the city. But I hope, as you get to know this place that you will start to feel comfortable here. Maybe even content. I would like it if you enjoyed it here, at least a little. May I show you around the village tomorrow?"

She could feel her heart starting to be torn in two. He regarded her with such earnestness that it was impossible to not like him. And it was so lovely here. She could see herself gliding along these hallways, reading books in the gardens, and riding horses all afternoon. She may have even started to redecorate a few of the rooms in her head. But it was like a dream where you know something is off. That this isn't really your life.

"Of course, my lord. I look forward to it."

 

 

Viola was humming to herself in the dining room. She had already finished bringing out the breads and wine but when she heard Chris's voice in the entryway she stopped and kept silent. Listening. She heard his father lumber in from the library to greet him and Charlotte.

"Christopher! You two have been out almost all day."

Lord Evans and his bride to be exchanged warm smiles. "Yes. We've been swapping stories. Getting to know each other a bit."

"Well that's lovely to hear. But you very nearly missed dinner."

"It's all right father, the sun has practically sapped up my appetite anyway. I should like something light, nothing heavy. I'll be retiring to bed early as tomorrow Miss Charlotte and I will be up with the sun and heading into town after breakfast. I wanted to show her around and introduce her to her future neighbors."

"Splendid idea. This will soon be her home, she should come to know it as well as you eventually. No better time to start than now." Chris's father was practically beaming. His long strides echoed on the stone as he made his way to the dining room. He addressed the head of the kitchen who was trying desperately to be invisible. "Viola, something light for the love birds here. The rest of us will have whatever is you've been whipping up all afternoon."

Viola retreated, as she passed Chris he tried to catch her eye but she kept her gaze on the floor as she made her way quickly back to the kitchen.

"You can't be that upset, miss." She turned around and there was Sebastian, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. "You knew this would happen, right?" Her jaw clenched as he walked towards her slowly. "I mean, I know our handsome Lord Evans has fallen on hard times but... you didn't think the Earl of Wiltshire would marry a scullery maid, did you?"

"You have no idea what he's like." She turned around but Sebastian caught her wrist.

"Oh, you're feisty? And beautiful. I can see why he'd be enamored with you." His fingers dug deep and hard into her flesh. He leaned in and sniffed her neck. "Mmm..." He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on certain areas a bit too long. "Yes, I suppose there are worse ways to fight the boredom of living here..." He exhaled and let his teeth graze against her earlobe.

"Let me go." She said softly but forcefully, craning her body away from him.

He chuckled against her throat, causing her skin to prickle. "Does it make it better or worse if I tell you she'll never love him." He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "Her heart firmly belongs to another. I can't speak for your beloved though. Men's desires change as frequently as the wind it seems." He shrugged and let her go. "Anyway. I'll let you get back to work." As he walked away he called over his shoulder, "By the way... watch the salt on my chicken tonight. I like it cooked, not cured."

" 

 

The Next Morning

Christopher and Charlotte meandered down the cobblestone streets of Castle Combe. Her eyes kept moving from one adorable cottage to the next and she felt like a child who had just entered their favorite story. Everyone they encountered seemed pleased to talk to Lord Evans and eager to meet his intended. Charlotte had a warm smile for all of them and the genuine affection they showed for the Earl of Wiltshire.

Halfway between the milliner and the cobbler, Chris couldn't help but to ask. "So what do you think?"

"I think it's very sweet. Enchanting almost. How this exists less than 200 kilometers away from London, I have no idea."

He grinned. "That different?"

She shook her head. "Like night and day."

"So what about where you grew up. In Ireland."

"Oh." She paused. She hadn't thought much about it in the years since they left. It seemed like a previous life. A different person. "I suppose I liked it well enough. Wexford is a friendly village. Not as charming as this, I'm afraid. It's on the Irish Sea so it's more rocky coast than forests and fields. Everyone liked my father and by extension, our family. But I didn't cry when we moved. It was a time of deep upheaval anyway. Without my mom, it didn't feel like home anymore. Just a house. But I can see how you would be connected to this place. It's been in your family for generations. It's not just where you live."

"That's why I love it here. I know everyone. They know me. It's part of who I am. It's comforting."

"Now see, I love London because it's swarming with strangers. I can be a different person every day if I like. The anonymity is what's comforting to me."

"Is that why you don't have much of an accent?"

"Partly. Me and Sebastian wanted to be accepted so we worked tirelessly to get rid of our Irish brogue. We thought it made us sounds like hicks. And people here are none too keen on the Irish to begin with. Of course Sebastian is better at controlling his accent than me. He's better at everything." She laughed deprecatingly. "Mine slips out occasionally when I get angry." She gave him a slight smile.

"Easier to control the accent than the temper?"

"Working on it."

Chris chuckled. "Well I hope I never incur your wrath."

"Oh indeed. It is quite a thing to endure." She gave him her best mean face and he pretended to be scared. "But it goes both ways, you know. I'm also fiercely loyal and protective so if I'm angry FOR you... well your enemies will rue the day they ever crossed you." She narrowed her eyes again trying to convey her ferocity. When he looked at her, he was first amused then horribly tried to cover up his laughter. She gave up and joined him.

"So what do you folk wear to big events? I haven't brought that many options for the engagement party tomorrow night. I want something pretty of course, but nothing as formal as what I'll have on for the soiree we'll be holding in London."

"Sorry?"

"We're celebrating here, we will also have a formal announcement party for my friends back home."

"Oh." He went silent as he thought about that. "I suppose that's fair." They walked a little further over a small bridge. "You know I've never been to London."

"Never?"

He shook his head. "No reason to."

"Well, I'm sure you'll love it."

"Really?"

"No. You'll most likely hate every second you're there."

"You're not very encouraging."

"You'll be fine. I can't wait to introduce you to high society."

"I fear they'll take one look at me and eat me alive."

Charlotte nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, it can be very intimidating, especially if you weren't raised in a family like that. But once you figure out that everyone is just as terrified as you that they don't belong there it gets a little easier. Then you just need to decipher how best to get in their good graces. Do you appeal to their self-esteem or intimidate others, not back down? Some of the more important people prefer supplication while others admire chutzpah. It can be very perilous at first, I don't think I would have lasted long if it wasn't for Sebastian. He can be encouraging and... occasionally threatening. Either way I was always motivated to keep playing the game. Slowly we gained favor and increased our social standing. But I wouldn't trust any of them. People will say or do anything to climb up the ladder of the haut ton."

"But isn't it tiring trying to be what someone else wants all the time?"

"It can be, but the parties and excitement make up for it. The trick is to act like none of the petty stuff affects you. I'm sure there were whispers of our humble beginnings. People talk about every perceived shortcoming. Being Irish and poor are some of the most grievous offenses. But we acted like it was no matter to us. And that slight air of nonchalance kept people interested." She shrugged. "Just a game. We were the intriguing newcomers. Full of stories and tongues quick to wit. Most of those creatures have minds dulled by lives of leisure and luxury. We were like spices from a strange land- new and earthy and pleasantly disconcerting."

Chris looked at her, trying to decide if she was more intimidating or beguiling. They had walked in a big circle around the village and were on the winding road back to the manor house.

When she noticed they had already seen the entire town, Charlotte couldn't help herself. "You never get claustrophobic here?"

"What? No." He looked at her curiously.

"But this entire town, they all know you. Know your comings and goings. They knew me and I'd never met them before."

"Yes. Word gets around rather fast, I suppose."

"Must be hard to keep secrets around here."

"Well, I Don't have any."

The look on her face was akin to sadness. "Well that must be nice."

He eyed her sympathetically. "How long have you had to keep quiet about Anthony?"

"Three years."

"And no one else knows?"

"No one except you." He didn't say anything and she could tell he was thinking. "I know it's a weird position of responsibility, especially since we just met. I just was loathe to start our relationship by hiding something from you. I really do want this work. It's important to both of our families. And we can't start out with a lie. It would be rot eating away at our foundation."

He nodded but he still wasn't sure exactly what to make of his worldly bride-to-be. They walked the rest of the way home in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

Viola was hard at work in the kitchen, taking her frustrations out on a poor, defenseless lump of bread dough.

"Viola?"

The voice stopped her cold. Her fists froze over the floured counter top. She took a deep breath before turning around. "Miss Charlotte."

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I wanted to ask you something. As you know, the engagement party is tonight."

Viola was well aware of that fact but fought hard to not display the abject misery she felt. She just wanted to disappear and now this interloper was going to start requesting all sorts of fancy hors d'oeuvres and intricate desserts. "Is there something special you'd like?"

"Yes. Well... you. I seem to have been a bit short-sighted. I was afraid of bringing a large entourage with me here. I didn't want to seem too ostentatious but I forgot how awful I am at doing hair. I have my entire outfit meticulously planned out but I am unable to do even the simplest of styles. And your hair always looks so lovely and effortless. I was hoping you would help me."

"I have many other obligations tonight. I'm sorry."

"Surely, there is someone else who can do them? If you were to act as a lady's maid to me, you would get to attend instead of being stuck here in front of the stove. You'd get to dress up, enjoy champagne, it would be fun."

"No offence meant, but I don't think I would have very much fun either way."

"Yes, I understand it might be a bit of an awkward situation."

"Awkward? You're stealing the man I love and moving into my home!" The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Despite the outburst, Charlotte appeared more resigned than surprised. Her voice lowered and became serious. "I am no happier about this arrangement than you or Christopher are. You have to understand that it is merely a business transaction. There is no need for us to be adversaries. I know about you and Chris. I am not interested in interfering with your relationship."

"You're marrying him! That's quite an interference!" Viola know she shouldn't speak like this to her, but she was tired of hiding her emotions.

"Please... this wasn't my idea." Charlotte said softly. "This was all conjured up by our fathers during some whiskey-fueled card game at the Clarendon. It was started as a joke. Lord Evans as a man with a castle but no money and my father as a man with money but no title. Then they saw a way for them both to have their cake and eat it to. By volunteering their children. And what can we do? Should I disappoint my family who's already had their heart broken once? Should Chris refuse me and let this place fall further into ruin before losing it entirely? You are welcome to have him all to yourself but you will be wife to a noble beggar."

Viola bit her tongue and looked down. She thought of a thousand things to say but uttered none of them. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Charlotte took a step forward. "Please, Viola. Chris speaks so highly of you. We may never be friends, but I don't want us to hate each other. There is no one here I can talk to."

"What about your brother?"

"Sebastian? He's not really the type for heartfelt conversations or encouragement. He's... actually kind of awful." Charlotte gave her a wry smile that turned melancholy. "He didn't used to be." 

Viola looked at her. This spoiled city girl who probably always got everything she ever wanted. She wanted to refuse and let her fend for herself but she also knew what Chris would want her to do. She took a deep breath. "All right, ma'am. I'll help you. But you're right. We will never be friends."

Charlotte nodded and gave her a grateful smile. She squeezed Viola's hand affectionately. "Very well then. I'll be in my room after tea."

 

 

Chris looked around nervously. The billiard room had been rearranged to make room for the guests and a small area for dancing. He had no idea where the musicians who were tuning their instruments had come from. There weren't many string quartets in Castle Combe but then again some of the people who were now drinking from his family's crystal and remarking on the paintings on the wall were unknown to him as well. 

At long last a familiar face appeared in front of him. "Your beloved is coming down the staircase."

"No, Viola is probably in the kitchen tending to-" Chris stopped short but not before Sebastian smirked at him. 

"You're going to need to get better at that before we arrive in London, Lord Evans. The party goers there will seize on a slip-up like that like sewer rats to a piece of cheese."

Chris clenched his jaw but before he could think of a retort he saw the girl who trailed behind Charlotte. Viola was resplendent in a beaded orchid gown. Her white gloves were similarly adorned and around her neck was a delicate but breathtaking necklace of diamonds and citrines. He moved towards her but was greeted by his father instead. "Ready for your big moment, son?" Chris looked at him nervously, then noticed Charlotte was standing behind him. "Ladies and gentlemen! It is the dance you have come all this way for. My son and his future bride leading us in the first waltz of the night."

He bowed to them both dramatically and left them in the center of the floor. Charlotte stepped up, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his left hand. Chris tried to protest. "I'm not much of a dancer." he whispered to her.

"Just do what I say." She replied. "And don't be so stiff."

To the unknowing eye, it looked like a sweet couple holding each other close as Charlotte whispered secret things in his ear. But it was merely Charlotte counting out steps and telling him how to move. One, two, three. One, two, three. Forward, side, together. Back, side, together. She could feel him loosen up a little and by the time the song was over, he was moving without her instruction. She laughed a little as he beamed proudly back at her.

The quartet finished and she curtsied as he bowed to her, still holding one gloved hand. They turned and saw that everyone was staring at them, somewhat expectantly. Charlotte noticed Sebastian, grinning like a satiated cat. Christopher looked for Viola and saw her standing by the hearth. Her eyes were full of dread.

Charlotte took a step closer to him. "I think they expect us to kiss." she whispered.

"Yes." he said softly.

"What should we do?" She looked at him. He looked back at her nervously, unsure. His fingers squeezed hers gently and he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"Thank you for the dance lesson, Miss Charlotte." 

"You are most welcome, Lord Evans."

They parted ways as their disappointed audience applauded politely and Charlotte joined Sebastian for a glass of champagne.

A minuet began to play and Chris made his way over to Viola and extended his hand to her. "May I?" She smiled without saying anything and took his hand. As they moved onto the small dance space that was now occupied by a few other couples, he looked down at her. "You're like a dream."

She at first shook her head before scrunching up her nose. "You think so? This isn't really me. I had to hem this entire dress in an hour. Charlotte was nice enough to lend it to me but she is much taller than me, I'm afraid."

"Well, it suits you. The color is really quite fetching."

"Well at least she's good for something."

"More than one thing." Chris chided her warmly. "How many times do we get the opportunity to dance like this?"

"Dresses, fancy parties, I hope you're not falling for the trappings of affluence."

"My dear Viola. You should know me better than that."

"I know you better than anyone else here." She reminded him.

"Yes." He gave her a devilish grin. "You certainly do." She stifled a giggled as he spun them round the floor. She did have to admit that this was more enjoyable than preparing dinner. She let herself drink in the ambiance and the music and Chris's hand on her waist.

"May I cut in?" Sebastian tapped on Chris's shoulder. Viola's eyes pleaded with Chris for him to say no, but his manners won out.

"Of course."

Her skin crawled as Sebastian's fingers landed on her waist and he stood closer to her than etiquette typically allowed. He gestured over to Chris and Charlotte who were talking by a window. "They really do make a lovely couple don't they? Everyone here seems pleased with the pairing." She didn't answer, just prayed that this song would be over soon. "Everyone but you of course. Must be a damned hard thing to watch."

"It is much more difficult to not spit in your face at the moment."

Sebastian laughed loudly, eliciting a few stares from the older guests. "Oh I really do like you, Miss Viola. I am going to miss you when we leave."

Charlotte heard Sebastian laugh and saw the expression on Viola's face. "You should go to her." She remarked to Christopher. "Don't let my brother torment her any longer."

The song ended and Chris swooped in to escort Viola to quieter spot in a corner. Her voice was low but the anguish in her face spoke volumes. "I don't want him in this house." 

"I know, Viola. Please don't worry. He won't be living here like Charlotte. He'll barely visit, I presume. He has no desire to be anywhere but London."

"He's horrendous. How much different can his twin sister be?"

"She's very different, actually and I feel like we've had this argument before."

"And we'll probably it many more times. I will never be all right with this."

"Please, Viola. Let's not ruin my last night here."

She stopped short. "Last night? You're leaving?"

"We all are. Headed to London for a similar party."

"How long will you be gone?"

"Only a few weeks. We have to tend to some business. My father and I will be introduced to many of Lieutenant Flynn's associates. He wants to play host to us as we have done for his family."

"Weeks?"

"Maybe sooner." He tried to convey hope.

Her eyes began to water and she felt nauseous. "I have to go."

"Viola, I-"

"Enjoy your party, my lord."

"Can I see you after?"

"This is your house. You can go wherever you like. You know where my room is."

 

Chris easily navigated the twisting steps that led up to her small bedroom. She was seated on the wooden chest at the end of her bed, combing out her hair. She was almost angelic in her long, diaphanous chemise; dark, wavy tresses cascading down her back.

"No more evening gown?" He asked.

She didn't smile. "I'll have to return all of that in the morning."

"Yes." He went over to where the dress was hanging and gloves were lain on the table. He picked up the necklace and brought it over to her. "Will you put this back on? These yellow stones really bring out the gold flecks on your eyes."

She stood up and turned around and held up her hair so he could fasten it around her neck. When he was done she faced him and ran her fingers over the jewels. "This doesn't really go with my nightgown."

Chris reached out and tugged on the ribbon that fastened the shift to her shoulders. "So let's take that off then." He pulled harder until the knot came undone and the flimsy fabric fell to the floor. He eyed her now naked form and took her face in both hands. He kissed her hungrily until she felt her legs grow weak. Her arms around his shoulders, it was easy for him to gather her into his arms and carry her to bed.

He laid her gently on the blankets, quickly disrobing before crawling next her. He kissed up one of her arms and over her shoulder. He grazed his teeth over the tender flesh of her neck before kissing her again.

When she finally pulled away she looked up at him sadly. "What will I do without you?"

"I don't know. Might actually get some work done in the kitchen since you won't be so busy engaging in lascivious acts with your employer."

She feigned offence and punched his shoulder. She pushed him off her and onto his back, pinning him to the bed with his wrists in her hands.

She let him struggle like that for while, knowing it would drive him crazy to have her straddling him and not being able to touch her. 

His nostrils flared at the delicious torture and he bucked his hips up against her legs. "Kiss me."

"Not yet. I'm enjoying watching you struggle."

He pouted for a moment then nudged his knee between her thighs, getting close to her womanhood.

She bit her lip and released his wrists, sinking onto his chest and kissing him slowly. "Cheater..." she whispered.

"Mmm..." he groaned against her throat, his hands sliding down her back. 

It was desperate and passionate. Making love and trying to remember every detail. Savoring every kiss, each caress and moan.

"My love..." he whispered against her when they laid there, hearts racing and breathless. He held her close and kissed her forehead.

She hugged him tight with the arm that was draped over his chest. "My love..." she repeated before falling asleep. 

 

The sun had started to come up, giving Viola's room a golden glow. She opened her eyes. He, and Charlotte's finery, were gone. Of course they would need to get an early start if they were to make it to London before dark. Still, she wished she could have given him one last kiss, one final embrace before what felt like sending him off into enemy territory.

She walked over to the window where he had left her a note.

My Dearest Charlotte,

Though I may be gone, please know that you will never be far from my thoughts. Try not to worry. Father is with me and I expect the Flynns to be nothing but the most gracious of hosts. I will miss you terribly. I know you will run the house well in my absence. Take good care of the horses. I will be home soon and look forward to you being in my arms again. 

With all my undying love, 

Your Christopher.

She heard the front gate being swung open and her stomach lurched. She watched from the window as the caravan of carriages rattled down the driveway path and out of sight. She rarely cried but allowed the tear that escaped to continue its journey down her cheek. 

*****

Chris and Charlotte were alone of one of the coaches. Charlotte had hoped the long ride would give them more of an opportunity to talk but Chris seemed not in the mood for banter. He looked out the window, eyes sad and worried and a heavy air swirled around him. She couldn't think of a single thing to say that would be important enough to break the silence or his disrupt his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

The carriages pulled up to the entrance of the Flynns' Mayfair townhouse. Christopher got out first to help Charlotte down the small steps to the sidewalk. Her hand in his, he heard the front door open and her fingers suddenly grip his tightly. He looked up at her and noticed her beaming in a way that he had never seen before.

"Anthony?" he asked her quietly.

"Is it that obvious?" she whispered back.

"It is the same glow I see in Viola."

The five of them and their attendants made their way up the stairs. Thomas greeted his butler first. "Anthony. This is my dear friend Lord William Evans. He and his son will be staying here for quite some time."

Anthony bowed slightly. "Welcome sir."

Lt. Flynn turned to the older Evans. "Don't let his dark skin fool you. He's actually fairly quick-witted and well-mannered. I credit him with saving my life once."

"Oh is that so?" William looked Anthony up and down. He jabbed his elbow in the butler's ribs. "Bet you regret it now, lad. Having to put up with these three spoiled micks?"

Anthony shook his head and stole a glance at Charlotte. "I don't regret it all, my lord."

"See?" Thomas smiled. "Loyal as a dog."

Sebastian pushed past both of them, allowing Christopher and Charlotte to enter. Anthony glanced at the lady of the house for perhaps a second too long. "Miss Charlotte. Welcome home." he said with a polite nod.

"Anthony." She smiled warmly at him.

"Not home for much longer." Sebastian was quick to point out. "Have you met her fiance?" He gestured to Christopher. "The future Earl of Wiltshire, Lord Evans."

"Sir." Anthony said politely.

"You may call me Chris. I'm not much for pomp." He gave a stinging look back at Sebastian.

"Anthony." Lt. Flynn's voice boomed over the younger men. "I trust you can set up our guests with the most comfortable of our rooms. They were very gracious to us during our stay with them and I would wish nothing but the absolute pinnacle of luxury during their time in London."

Anthony nodded. "I will see to it, right away, sir."

"Feel free to put Christopher close to my sister's room. Save them the long walk to each other's chambers in the middle of the night." He grinned.

"Sebastian." Charlotte gave him a withering look.

Both fathers chuckled. "No, he's quite right, I presume." Thomas winked knowingly at Christopher. "Or have I completely misread the signs between you two?" Now all four men were staring at the betrothed couple.

"We..." Charlotte started diplomatically, "we have indeed grown quite fond of each other."

Chris's father punched Flynn in the shoulder. "What did I tell you, old friend? A match made in heaven."

Charlotte dared not look at Anthony's face but Sebastian was delighting in the discomfort of his butler.

"It has been a long trip." Charlotte managed to say. "And I am quite tired. I will leave you gentlemen to your snuff and whiskey. Good night."

 

She crept down the cellar stairs and opened Anthony's door with nary a creak. He was sitting on his bed, lazily sketching something when he looked up and saw her. He threw the sketchbook and pencils to the floor as she toppled onto the bed beside him. Her arms wound themselves instantly around his neck as their bodies crashed together. He held her tight against him, drinking in everything he had missed. Her scent, the feel of her soft skin, the way her hair glided over his fingers. Her lips ravenously moved against his and his tongue slid between them desperate to taste her once more.

"My Charlotte... this house was so dreary without you."

"Mmm...everything was dreary without you."

They frantically disrobed, limbs entangling, and hands, lips, skin constantly searching for the other's flesh. Always craving more. The wanton thirst never truly slaked.

When the candles had almost burned down to their bases and the initial frenzy of desire had slightly waned, Charlotte laid on his chest letting her fingers trace small circular patterns on his skin.

"So what's he like? Is he awful?" Anthony finally asked.

"No. He's actually very nice. Very kind."

"He's not ugly."

"No." Charlotte smiled. "He's quite handsome." Anthony frowned. "Oh stop. It's not like you need to worry." She kissed his pout and gazed adoringly into his eyes. Her face cracked into a smile and she laid back down. "He is like Prince Charming though." She sighed dreamily. "A sprawling house, gardens to get lost in, fields and forests as far as the eye can see. He's even in love with Cinderella."

Now Anthony grinned. "You may be a princess, love, but you are no Cinderella."

"Oh not me, darling. He has no interest in me. This girl who works in the kitchens. Pretty little thing. She and Chris grew up together. Poor girl was quite the prey for Sebastian."

"He does have a knack for sinking his claws into people." Anthony still seemed a bit grim. "So you go from sleeping in a castle to my humble straw bed."

She looked up at him, pulling him close for another kiss. "Mm-hmm. And I couldn't be happier." He looked at her like he didn't believe it. "Those fancy rooms upstairs are not what I missed about being away. This..." she lovingly caressed his face. "...is home."

Anthony did not appear convinced. "May I be bold and ask you something?"

She kissed him once more, determined to wipe that worried look from his countenance. "You know you can ask me anything."

"Why? Why go through with this? Aren't you both living a lie now, in love with other people while married to each other? You could stand up to your father."

Charlotte sighed. "Yes. I could. But I haven't seen him this happy since my mother was alive. He's pinned all his hopes on this and I won't let him down."

"But Charlotte, you can't always live your life for someone else. This is YOUR life. Not his."

"Anthony, if I don't do this he would likely disown me. And if he found out why, you'd be sacked instantly too. It's terrible that I was thrown into this but I am trying to make everyone happy. And I don't want to upset anything. We have a nice life here."

"You have a nice life here. I'm still just a servant sleeping in the basement next to the dinner plates."

Now it was her turn to look upset. "So what should I do?"

"I don't know."

She sighed and pressed the palm of her hand on his cheek. "Just give me time. I'll think of something."

She started to get up and Anthony reached for her wrist. "You can't stay just a little longer?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and not wake up before the rest of the house does."

He acquiesced, sinking back into his pillows. "It is good to have you home, Charlotte."

 

 

 

The next day, Sebastian found Chris in the library, loudly crunching on an apple and reading one of the late Mrs. Flynn's forgotten books. "Making yourself at home I see."

"Well, I'm sure your presence will quickly make me uncomfortable again." Chris retorted.

Sebastian acted innocent. "I am only here to make sure you are prepared for tomorrow night's soiree."

"I think so. Not sure what would be required of me. I have brought my best attire."

"Oh you did? Well I hope it's better than that pile of glad rags you had on at the celebration at your house." Chris didn't answer. It was, in fact that very ensemble. "Oh dear..." Sebastian looked very grave. "Well that simply will not do. You must have breeches, not pants." He handed Chris his hat and coat. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To my couturier. There is not enough time to have something custom-made for you, but Roberto is the best. He can whip something up in time for the party tomorrow night."

"In just a day?"

"Indeed. The man is a treasure. I'm sure he can make even you look like a gentleman."

"I have no doubt about that. He's done wonders with you."

Sebastian smirked. "Barely a day in the big city and you're already trading barbs like a regular at Almack's. Who knows, future brother? We may end up liking each other someday."

Chris almost vocalized the improbability of that happening but his pedigree prevented him from any further insults. Besides, they had already been swallowed up by the crowds on the busy London sidewalk.

 

As Roberto hustled into the back to fetch an array of fabrics to choose from, Sebastian addressed Chris. "So... all this pretending. What is all of this for really? You are marrying my sister for our wealth, yes?" Christopher didn't respond so Sebastian continued. "I'm assuming due to entail that you two will need to produce an heir who will inherit your little house and lands?"

"That is typically the way things are done."

"So that boils down to you fucking my sister for money." Lord Evans stared at him. "Like a long-term whore." Chris moved closer to him, curling his fingers into fists. "Oh there's no need to be so aggressive, my lord. I don't use that word as an insult. We are all whores for something. All of us are trading sex for what we want. Affection, attention, a few drinks, a few dollars. It matters not to me."

"Are you really this callous?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I don't care what anyone else does or why. But you are just a little fascinating. I know what I want and I know how to get it. You seem like you already have everything you want."

"And I suppose you always get what you want?" Christopher asked him.

"Always." Sebastian grinned.

"What about love?" Chris couldn't help himself.

"Love?" Sebastian looked disgusted. "Pfft.. love. Now you sound like my sister." He shook his head. "You know if you two weren't such idiots you would probably be very happy together. You could quote sonnets to each other and looking stupidly in each other's eyes for all eternity. The only thing I know about love is that turns reasonable people into fools."

"You've never been in love?"

"No." Sebastian sneered. "No, I don't understand the appeal of it at all."

Chris sat on one of the chaises and looked at him. "Then I feel sorry for you, Sebastian. The world is all dull shades of grey until you fall in love and only then do you see all of the wondrous colors of life. Passionate reds and melancholy blues. Hopeful greens and beaming yellows."

"I am quite content with my-"

"Gentlemen I have returned!" The tailor finally emerged from the back room. "So Sebastian... who exactly is this delectable specimen you have brought to me today?"

"Would you believe he is a nobleman?"

"No, I would not. The lads you typically bring here to spoil would be considered anything but noble."

"Ha!" Sebastian guffawed. "No argument there. But may I present to you the Earl of Wiltshire, warden of Chippenham, overseer of Castle Combe, Lord Evans."

Roberto narrowed his eyes at the blonde-haired lad. "Hmm... well in that ensemble the only thing you are lord of is terrible choices."

"He's marrying my sister."

"Oh congratulations. She's very pretty. As long as you're not expecting a virgin, she should suit you just fine."

Christopher looked from the clothier to Sebastian, aghast at the language. Why would he not defend how own sister? "I'm sure she will make a lovely, dutiful wife. We have much in common and she is very pleasant to talk to."

"How nice to hear. Usually when other men talk to me about Charlotte it has nothing to do with her conversational proficiency."

"Though her skillful tongue is mentioned a lot." Roberto and Sebastian burst out laughing.

"That's enough." Chris said softly ending the chicanery.

 

Charlotte pulled on her gloves and did a final check in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance she went to check on Christopher. He was leaning against the window, looking out at the city streets below. He was a different man now decked out in the latest finery and she had to take a moment to collect herself. Had he always been this handsome and she just never saw through the raw cotton shirts and worn woolen trousers? He turned and when he saw her face he grew concerned. "Charlotte? Are you all right?"

"Yes. It's just... you look incredible. I mean..." She instantly flushed with embarrassment and tried to shake the inappropriate thoughts from her head. "Let me guess. Sebastian had that made for you." Chris shrugged. "I can tell. He may be prick but he does an eye for fashion."

"I guess I owe him then. At least I can look the part."

"You'll be fine."

"I feel like I'm entering a viper's den."

"Try not to let their forked tongues deliver doubt to your mind. The only thing they have that you don't is money and horrible attitudes. You are kind and clever and handsome. Don't let them knock you down. Their harsh words only come from jealousy." She took a deep breath. "Ready?" Christopher nodded. She kissed his cheek affectionately. "Let's go." She led him to the top of the stairs. He looked out over the dizzying crowd and his eyes widened.

"There's the happy couple." Sebastian sauntered down the hallway to greet them. He looked over the railing. "Excellent turnout, I see."

"There's so many people." Chris said dazed.

"Yes. And they will all be judging you." Sebastian smiled. He patted Chris on the shoulder before walking away. "Good luck country boy."

Charlotte gave her brother a searing glance before turning to Chris. "I'll be by your side the entire night." She tried to comfort him.

Sebastian made his way down half the stairs before proclaiming, "My dear Lords and Ladies. Members of all the finest, most respected families in London and beyond. Thank you all for coming. We are here to celebrate." His eyes scanned the crowd giving a nod or smile of acknowledgment to those in attendance. He saw Anthony standing guard in the doorway that led to the entry hall. Keeping his eyes on the butler, he continued. "It has been such a privilege watching my sweet sister fall in love with a truly wonderful man. I couldn't imagine anyone making her as happy as she has been these last few months. They are truly a perfect couple who grow closer by the day."

"Goddammit, Sebastian." she whispered under her breath. Chris squeezed her hand gently. Her eyes looked quickly at Anthony, standing stoically at his position. She wanted to run to him with every fiber of her being.

"May I present my darling Charlotte and the love of her life, the Earl of Wiltshire, Lord Christopher Evans."


	9. Chapter 9

Anthony beamed as he made his way to the conservatory. He could hear Charlotte had already begun to play and he smiled. He had missed these mornings. When he arrived though, his face fell as he saw her fiance seated next to her on the piano bench.

"Anthony!" Charlotte greeted him excitedly. "Come in please. I was just trying to figure out the piano on this passage from Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. I had to pick something that didn't require singing. Chris's voice is even worse than mine."

"It is indeed." Christopher nodded.

Anthony did not join in their playful demeanor. "I just came to make sure there was nothing you two needed."

"I thought you came here to draw, like usual." Charlotte was disappointed.

Anthony shook his head. "No ma'am."

Charlotte pouted. "Don't be silly, Anthony. I can see you have brought your pencils. Come on now, have a seat. You should show Chris some of your sketches." She turned to Chris. "He's very talented."

"No.. I don't think I could." The butler looked down.

She frowned. "He's also very modest."

Chris regarded him warmly. "Perhaps when the time is right, I may see them." Anthony nodded and started to back away.

"Anthony. I was planning on showing Christopher some of the city after lunch. I should like for him to experience the wonder of Vauxhall Gardens."

Anthony looked at her with a worried expression. "That place can be dangerous after dark, Miss Charlotte."

"Oh we wouldn't stay long. We'd leave by 7 or 8. Long before the predators and pickpockets loiter on the paths. And I daresay, Lord Evans wouldn't let any tragedy befall me." Anthony still looked concerned and Chris seemed a little unsure himself. Charlotte grimaced. "Oh you both are ridiculous. It is summer, it is light out long into the evening. And Christopher simply MUST see a balloon flight before going back to the country." The two men still appeared dubious. Charlotte rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "We're going. Anthony, please give my apologies to Father that we will not be home in time for dinner."

"Of course, milady."

 

Christopher and Charlotte walked side by side through the many gardens and hedge-lined paths that were part of the pleasure gardens. Chris looked around at the intricately trimmed bushes and rows of flowers. "This is lovely."

"Well.. it's not the Cotswolds, but I like it."

"The smell here..." Chris's voice trailed off.

Charlotte giggled. "Yes, that does take some getting used to. Lots of people; lots of horses; lots of waste. I hope the noise isn't too jarring. Have you had trouble trying to sleep?"

"Not too bad. A bit disconcerting being in a bed that's not my own. Hope you couldn't hear me through the wall, pacing around."

"No." she answered honestly. "Didn't hear a thing last night."

"About last night." He began to say and her heart beat a little faster. "How terrible was I?"

"Oh, you were perfect." She exhaled in relief. "Charming, modest, witty, respectful. Disarmingly handsome." He looked down and shook his head. "It's true." She let her gaze linger on him while he wasn't looking. "Most of the ladies there would have sacrificed their reputation just for ten minutes alone with you."

He looked back up. "I doubt that."

"Trust me. I know their husbands. Those ladies have never seen a man like you, my lord. Most of these noblemen couldn't hang a painting let alone build an entire barn. You didn't notice how they couldn't help but touch your arm when they greeted you?"

"I... no.. I didn't really..."

"Well I can't blame them. You were remarkable in that outfit Sebastian bought for you. He may have regretted that favor. He was no longer the center of attention and I could tell he was most upset. He's used to gliding around these sorts of parties, soaking up the hungry gazes of women and men. But it was not so easy with you there." She smirked.

"I wasn't angling for all that attention, you know."

"Yes, I know. I doubt it made Sebastian feel any better though."

"He should know I am not competition for him."

"Everyone is competition to him. You, me, Father. Anyone who might steal his thunder."

"You know, for twins, you two are very different."

"We're not that different." she said softly. She led him to a bench and they sat watching a man paint one of tourists. "As children we were inseparable. Could not force us apart. Running barefoot through the woods, splashing in the river, roaming the docks waiting for Father. Then when Mother died, we grew even closer. There was no one else, you see. Father became a shadow. We had to learn how to cook and keep the house running while he sorted himself out. And then we moved here and Sebastian found a way enjoy our newfound wealth. He was the one who initially charmed his way into the haut ton. I was just trying to keep up. It was mesmerizing. Servants who would refill your glass before your last sip of wine had passed your lips. Endless music. And the freedom. The freedom that all that money gave us to indulge in whatever we wanted. Rules that applied to the rest of society were waved off with a plump, bejeweled hand. Propriety disappeared in shadowy corners of luxurious salons. Whatever you wanted- food, drink, sex..anything was available as long as you looked the part. And we were quite happy to indulge. Eager to fill the hole in our hearts. We had earned it, we thought. We were encouraged it seemed at times, for if we had salacious secrets, then perhaps we would be more willing to keep theirs. And it was fun. It all seems like a dream sometimes. A hazy smoke-filled, alcohol-fueled swirl of parties and laughter and... I ate it up. I loved it." She seemed regretful. "But then I started spending time with Anthony. And that stuff seemed so silly. Horrible even. Sebastian would still drag me out but it got harder and harder to pretend to be enjoying myself. Eventually he just went out on his own."

"He never asked you why you had a sudden change of heart?"

"I suppose he didn't care."

Chris frowned. "Seems like he doesn't care about anything of substance."

She looked at him sympathetically. "Yes... he's changed. He does still have a soft spot for me but the wall he's built around himself can be impenetrable."

Chris appeared deep in thought. "I hope he and I can grow to like each other."

Charlotte smiled. "I'm sure you two will figure it out."

"Well, I guess we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other during our weekend in Chelmsford." She looked at him curiously. "I overheard our fathers talking. Some sort of hunting trip, it would seem."

"Oh..really? Hmm, we do have a small house in the countryside there. One of father's oldest friends lives nearby. Mr. Gregg. He's very friendly. You two should get along well. I don't know why the Lieutenant would want all of us to travel out there though unless he was trying to show off. All his rifles and hunting trophies are there. I refused to have mounted heads in our townhouse."

"You know I have quite a few back home." Chris teased her.

"I did notice and I can't wait to banish them to the cellar." She taunted him back.

"I worked very hard for those." He pretended to get upset.

"And you can work just as hard getting them out of my sight."

He started to form a retort but couldn't suppress his laughter. Her eyes danced as she joined him, amused. He looked around at the growing crowd of people and grew a little anxious. "It is starting to get dark, Charlotte. Anthony mentioned it becoming unsafe here at night?"

She smiled. "Yes. Always worried about me, he is. I suppose we can begin our journey back home."

 

 

The Next Day

After making sure all the guests and the Flynns were satisfied with their lunch, Anthony looked forward to devouring what was left over. He sat in the pantry ready to eat when Charlotte scurried in. In his opinion she was not as quiet as she should have been but he barely had time to chide her exuberance before she plopped on his lap and threw her arms around him, kissing him over and over.

"Guess what?" she managed to murmur in between furtive kisses.

"Well, I'm guessing it's either really good or really bad news." He smiled against the barrage of affection.

"Oh, it's good..." she kissed him again. "Very good."

He wrapped his arms around her, trying to hold her still as he pressed his mouth against hers. He deepened the kiss, slowing her movements, scatter shot kisses morphing into long, passionate caresses.

She moaned softly and forgot for a moment why she was there. She pulled away, eyes half-lidded in desire and a dreamy smile spread softly over her face. "We will have the entire house to ourselves this weekend."

"Oh?" He looked incredulous. "And how is that?"

"The men are all going to Chelmsford for 3 days on a hunting trip. I told them I had no interest in watching animals being murdered so they grumbled and started to pack without me. Poor Sebastian. He'll hate every minute of it."

"What about Gwendolyn and Emilia?"

"I gave them the weekend off. I shouldn't need an housekeeper while the men are gone. Can't make much of a mess by myself. And why have the cook and a whole kitchen staff here when it is only me who will need to be fed?"

"And the rest of the servants?"

"Oh, I don't know... I figured since I have a very competent butler who runs the entire household he could find a way to have them be scarce for a few days."

He smiled and kissed her again. "I suppose there are a few errands that might take a bit of time to accomplish. Maybe even an entire day." She grinned and that smile was everything to him. "So, we'll really be alone then?"

"Yes, my love. No need to tiptoe into your room while everyone is sleeping. No trying to keep quiet all night long. We'll have the whole place to ourselves. We can be as loud as we want. We can fuck in every room in this house"

"Charlotte!" His eyes widened; he was certain someone must have heard that.

"On the kitchen counter, on the stairs in the library, on top of that very expensive piano..."

"Shhh..." he silenced her with another long, lingering kiss. "We're not alone yet."

"Soon." She whispered. She gave him a final, fervent kiss and slipped back upstairs.


	10. Chapter 10

The stars twinkled faintly and the small flames of the street lamps flickered weakly outside the window. The candles in her bedroom had either burned down to almost nothing or gone completely out. But Anthony and Charlotte remained in the warm afterglow of satiated desire and love.

She held him and her fingers skated over his skin. "I wish this was how it always was. You in my bed. Both of us calm, content. Not scared of being discovered." 

"It is heavenly, my lady."

Her fingernails grazed over his close cropped hair. "My Anthony..."

"Yes, my Charlotte?"

"Why can't this be real? This is all I want."

"Aye, milady. I feel the same."

"You know I'm desperately in love with you."

"Oh Charlotte..." he smiled a little. "That sounds dangerous for both of us."

She wistfully agreed, trying not to let her melancholy thoughts intrude on this perfect moment. She felt the weight of him laying on her pale, soft stomach and let her fingers trail over his shoulders as he seemed to drift off to sleep. 

Her touch traveled lower down his back until it reached one of his scars. She tentatively traced it, feeling the raised, hardened skin. It was one of many and although she had felt them before, she still swallowed against the hurt and anger that bubbled in her throat.

"Anthony..."

He didn't open his eyes but his voice was decisive. "You know I don't talk about it."

"I know. It's just... you don't need to keep any secrets from me."

"I'm sorry, Charlotte. There are things about me I do not want you to know."

"But you shouldn't feel ashamed... I know-"

"No." His voice was even more severe and he lifted up his head to look at her. "The things I have seen, you cannot fathom. Hearing about them, reading about them, it is not the same as being there. You will never know. You think you have a modicum of understanding because the Irish are discriminated against here and not well liked but what I suffer is far greater and goes much deeper. You can pretend. You can fool people with your genteel manners and fake accent. I don't have that luxury. The things I have done to be here. To survive. I would die before you knew them."

"Anthony..." Her voice broke and she felt the hot sting of tears. "There is nothing you could tell me that would make me stop loving you."

His voice softened, "I'm not so sure of that." She looked at him, wounded but fierce. He believed her but would never burden her with such horrors. He tenderly placed his hand on her cheek and swiped away a tear that had escaped. "Charlotte... you help me forget; please don't make me remember."

Her heart ached, and she nodded. She hated feeling so helpless against his demons. He laid back down on her chest and she enveloped him in her embrace, holding him close to her. She craned her neck so she could kiss the top of his head and whispered a somber good night.

 

Chris looked at the ground as the twigs and dead leaves crunched under his feet. The countryside around Lily Lake was beautiful but too similar to home. It made him pine for Viola. Had it only been days since he last saw her? It felt like a lifetime. He hadn't spent a day without her in over a decade. The older men had all hastily made their way into the trees, placing bets on who would bag the biggest prize. They were a jocular trio, fueled by whiskey and a nostalgia for their younger days. Chris and Sebastian were less enthusiastic, ambling through the trees with no real motivation to kill.

The men's voices had faded and it had grown quiet. Christopher figured he was far from the rest of his party when the tall silhouette of Sebastian appeared about 20 feet ahead of him. He was also taking his time to join the the eager hunters and Chris wondered if Sebastian knew he was there. A dark thought entered his mind. He lifted his gun in the direction of his future brother-in-law. Would the world weep for the loss of this man? His finger caressed the trigger and he remembered just how much this brat had terrorized his beloved. A man like him, could he ever be healed? Would he ever see the errors of a life lived only for immediate pleasure? He scanned the terrain. Both of their fathers and Mr. Gregg were very far off by now. It was only he and Sebastian. He could say it was an accident. No one would know.

"If you're going to kill me, you could at least have the decency to look me in the eye." Sebastian stopped in front of him but didn't turn around at first. "I thought you were the noble, golden-hearted sort. Not the kind to shoot family in the back." He slowly turned around and met Chris's gaze fearlessly. The two men stared at each other. "Murdering me won't solve anything, little Lord Evans. You'll still be in love with some low-born maid while your future wife is fucking a slave."

Chris's nostrils flared and his arms remained steady, rifle still pointed at Sebastian. "Do you think that scares me? Do you think I feel threatened?" He began to walk towards Christopher. "Do you think I actually care if I live or die?" Sebastian shrugged. "Do I care when I take whatever drink or drug is offered to me? When I visit bathhouses and seek to be alone with all sorts of nefarious strangers? When I walk home at night, stumbling and blurry-eyed past dark alleys and desperate ruffians unable to defend myself? Do you think I give one single shit about my precious life?"

Christopher narrowed his eyes. "Can I ask you something? Just you and me. Why? Why treat everyone around you like shit? Does it make you feel superior? Does it actually heal the loss of your mother? Does it help anything? Everyone has been hurt at some point. We've all suffered a terrible loss. You and I actually have some things in common. If you saw past your own wounds you would see there are people, good people like your sister who want nothing more than to love you. I lost my mother too and for years I tried to ignore the pain. Refused to let anyone get close again. But eventually I opened myself up, I was brave enough to care for someone else and it is now the most cherished thing in my life."

"I have no desire to care for anyone, nor do I want anyone to feel beholden to me. I cannot find anything you and I have in common besides a routine tragedy. It is not bravery that allows you to love again, it is stupidity. You look like a fool wearing your heart on your sleeve."

"At least I have a heart."

Sebastian crept menacingly closer to him. "Oh, I have a heart, boy-o." He opened the collar of his shirt and placed the barrel of Chris's rifle on his chest. "It's right here if you'd like to aim for it."

The two of them stood frozen like that for quite a while. Chris's finger quivered.

Sebastian finally stepped back with a sick grin on his face. "I knew you wouldn't do it." He eyed Christopher up and down. "All those lovely muscles, yet still so weak." He turned on his heels and headed down to the lake.

"Father!" Chris could hear him call out to Lt. Flynn. "I'm a bit peckish and have had enough slaughter for a while. Would you mind terribly if I called it a day a bit early?" Thomas waved him off and as Chris moved closer he could hear him say, "It'll take a miracle to marry that boy off."

"I thought money made anything possible." Chris stated, the other three men finally taking notice of him.

William Evans slapped his hand on Chris's shoulder with a guffaw. "They learn so quickly, don't they?"

Lt. Flynn joined in the laughter. "All kidding aside I couldn't be happier that Charlotte and you will be wed. She could do with a good-hearted, strong man who can tame her. London and Sebastian have been a terrible influence on her, and I am too soft to provide her with much discipline. She will bloom in the country with less distractions and more traditional values. I am confident of that."

"I hope I can make her happy, sir." Chris said, stealing a glance back at Sebastian who was now halfway back to the country house. "We all deserve that."

 

 

Anthony was tentatively trying to chew a piece of overcooked steak. He masticated it for quite some time before he finally felt confident enough to swallow. 

"It's awful, isn't it?"

"No, it's fine." He smiled. "I haven't choked yet."

She appeared mildly hurt; she really did want to make something incredible for him. "I'm sorry. I tried to remember how to fry it up proper but I haven't really prepared a meal since I was a girl."

He lightly took her hand in his, cradling her fingers with his palm. "It is all right, Charlotte. I don't love you for your cooking." He pulled her into his lap and began planting kisses on her neck. "They are plenty of other ways for you to satisfy me."

"Oh really?" she asked coquettishly. She stood up and sat on the edge of the table. She bit her lip and stared at him lustfully. She hiked her skirts all the way up to her hips and let her thighs fall open. Anthony felt the flames fanned when he saw she was wearing no knickers or small clothes.

He could not stand up quickly enough. He pushed their plates to the floor and unlaced his pants. He hovered over her, between her legs, stroking her sex with his manhood until he felt they both were ready. He slowly pushed into her, burying his face in her collarbone. She cried out, reveling in the ability to be vocal about her pleasure. Her hips arched off the table, desperate to feel more of him. He moaned rapturously and his hands gripped the table tight to steady himself. She sighed out his name and clawed the back of his neck.

His movements started to quicken; the table began to quake and a candlestick crashed to the carpet. The cacophony grew along with the roar of arousal that pounded in time to their quickening heartbeats.

It would be understandable then that they did not hear the other man come into the room.

He acted horrified. "Get your paws off my sister!"

"Sebastian!" Charlotte turned around in surprise. Anthony quickly tugged her skirts back down to cover her before yanking up his own trousers.

"So this is why you begged not to come with us?" Sebastian shifted his gaze from his sister to Anthony. His blue eyes were full of icy contempt and a seething hatred. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" His breath came fast and ragged. "Just how in the holy hell would either one of you ever think this was a good idea?"

"Sebastian, stop." Charlotte gripped her dress tightly, trying to keep it closed. "Please, give me a moment and then we can talk."

He continued to stare at Anthony with his jaw clenched so hard it started to ache. "Fine." He spat out and retreated into the hall.

She adjusted her clothes and Anthony looked at her sorrowfully. She tried to put on a brave face. "It will be fine. Just let me talk to him alone."

Sebastian was right outside the door frame. "What the hell was that? The dining room? Where anyone could have walked in? Are you mad? I've known about your little tryst for years but this is just insane. What if it was Father who walked through those doors? Or Christopher's father? How on earth could you be so reckless?"

"Oh please, Sebastian."

"What will the lieutenant say?"

"Nothing. Because you won't tell him. You said you've known about this for years. Why tell him now? You want me to become a lady as much as he does, so I imagine you'll just continue to keep this secret as you always have done."

Sebastian exhaled and a little of the tension he seemed to be carrying was lifted. He knew she was right. "Well how the hell am I supposed to eat off that damned table now?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out. We weren't even close to your seat, you know. Look on the bright side, you turn your head the other way for Anthony and I and we will ignore whoever you decide to bring home tonight. I assume the rest of the hunting party is still not coming back until tomorrow?"

"That was the plan."

"How come you left early?"

Sebastian took a moment before answering. "I told them I didn't feel well. Too much country air and gun powder. Nobody wanted me there anyway. They were quite willing to send me back to London." He seemed for a moment defeated. Something she hadn't seen from him in quite some time. "So, you are suggesting we turn this place into a den of sin for the evening?"

She smirked. "You don't have to be so dramatic. Just entertain your admirers here for once, instead of Grenier's."

"I do hate that post-coital walk home."

She gave him a small smile. "Am I free to go then, dear brother?"

He looked at her. "I suppose. Just please don't let me hear you."

She nodded and re-entered the dining room. "What a mess." she sighed. Anthony was trying his best to clean up the food and overturned plates that had been knocked to the ground. "Guess we shouldn't have sent Gwendolyn to see her family this weekend after all."

"What did Sebastian say?"

"He was typically overwrought but he'll be fine. I think for the rest of the night though, it would be best to retire to my bedroom."

"Your door locks, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes. Let's leave the cleaning for the morning. I'd really like to lay down."


	11. Chapter 11

The Next Evening

The Flynn and Evans families, along with Mr. Gregg, were relaxing in the parlor after dinner. They had moved from the exuberant recounting of the weekend's hunt to even taller tales of past victories. The deer they had successfully cornered and killed that somehow got bigger with every telling of the story. Christopher and Charlotte exchanged, 'Please get me out of here' glances. Sebastian rolled his eyes and appeared to be praying for the quick release of death.

"Are we boring you, my boy?" Thomas asked.

"No, I'm eternally fascinated by the things you accomplished twenty years ago, father."

William let out a rolling chortle. "Ahaha... Sebastian... not the most mannered lad I've ever met, but always willing to speak the truth." He slapped his hand on the young man's back before leaving. "Well, I'm done being an old windbag. For tonight, at least." He raised his glass before draining it. "I will say good night. See you at breakfast."

"Good night father." Chris said warmly.

"I'll take that as my cue to also bid you all adieu. It was nice seeing you again, Miss Charlotte." Mr. Gregg gave her an elaborate bow which she nodded politely at.

"And I suppose I should join my elderly brethren and head off into dream land myself. All that hunting and providing food for my family really wears a man out." Lt. Flynn set his glass on the hearth.

"No one is more virile and masculine than you father." Sebastian took a swig of his sherry.

Charlotte giggled and stood up to kiss Thomas on the cheek. "Good night, father."

"Good night my princess."

Charlotte lowered her eyelashes demurely and Chris regarded both of them with tenderness.

With the older men gone to their sleeping chambers, Christopher, Charlotte, and Sebastian looked at each other awkwardly for a moment.

"I guess the night is over." Charlotte spoke first. "I shall see you both in the morning."

"I look forward to it." Christopher smiled and kissed her hand.

"Good night, sweet sister." Sebastian said though there was no affection in his voice.

 

Charlotte waited what she thought was the appropriate amount of time for everyone to fall asleep before creeping down to the butler's pantry. She softly knocked on Anthony's door before entering. "Anthony love?" she whispered as she tiptoed inside. She didn't see him which was curious, he was always in his room by now. He had to be up so very early in the morning.

She went back upstairs and into the kitchen, "Anthony?" It was also dark and empty and she wondered where he had gone to. She checked in the study, the library, and the conservatory. All of them were empty.

"Anthony?" she called out as she walked upstairs to the bedrooms. She knew she really shouldn't advertise that she was looking for him but she was growing a little worried. Maybe he was going to surprise her in her room? That would be very risky, especially with the Evans men still here.

All the rooms she entered showed no signs of him. She even peeked into the bedrooms of the female servants, nervous to find him but more scared to not. He was no where to be found. She padded softly back to the 2nd floor and found Sebastian waiting by her door.

"Looking for something?" He asked casually.

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Where is he?"

"Anthony? Oh, I haven't the foggiest. Isn't he usually in bed by now? I mean, you would know, right?"

"Tell me where he is, please!"

"I don't know... have you tried the dining room table?"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Sebastian looked at her, trying to decide what to do. "Truthfully, I don't know where he is exactly. I would suppose he is halfway to Lord Pearce's underground bar by now."

"Why would he be there at 10 o'clock at night?"

"Because I sent him there. With a letter."

"And just what was so important that this letter could not wait until morning."

"Your safety."

"What are you talking about?"

At this, Sebastian could no longer suppress the grin that had been itching to emerge. "That idiot butler that you seem to fancy so passionately has no idea that he is wandering around with a missive that spells his undoing. Such a shame he can't read, then he might know what it says and do us all a favor and disappear."

"What does it say?"

"Well, I just described my encounter with you both from last night. All the sordid details of what that man did to you. Such a pity, him taking advantage of you like that in your own home. How will you ever feel safe again?"

She was aghast. If Pearce and the rough denizens of his raucous establishment read the note before Anthony could leave...

She turned around and hurried down the stairs. Sebastian called out to her. "You shouldn't be out this late. He left an hour ago, you have no hope of catching him anyway. You can find what's left of him in the morning, I'm sure."

She ignored him and charged for the front door, throwing on her cloak and plowing right into Christopher.

"Charlotte, wait."

"Chris, I have to go. It's Anthony. He might be hurt. Please, I have to find him."

"It is very late, my lady. You can't be wandering around the city in the dark."

"Please..." her brow was folded in worry. She was desperate to run out that door.

"It is not safe for a young woman to be alone on these streets."

The smallest, weakest cry tumbled from her mouth as Chris remained in front of the door. Finally he sighed and turned one of the heavy locks. "I will come with you." He grabbed his coat and as Charlotte ran out into the night, he looked back at Sebastian with a enraged scowl.

 

Christopher and Charlotte ran through the shadowy London streets. She grew frantic as they searched every alley and dark corner. The faint echo of thunder rumbled louder and louder as if the city was closing in around them.

Their was a loud crack and a roar from the clouds as the skies opened up and the rain began to fall. It landed in a random staccato rhythm that almost drowned out a distressed howl coming from a tiny passage next to the cemetery.

Charlotte was there in an instant, only stopping when she saw. There was crowd of men, 5 or 6, some with clubs, other just using their fists. All of them assailing the man who had been forced to his knees on the cobblestone.

"Stop!" she cried out in anguish. She tried to run over to him but Chris prevented her with a firm hand on her arm.

One of the men looked up at her. "You know this animal?"

"Yes..." her throat was strangled by emotion.

"Of course she does." Came a different voice. It was Lord Pearce. "This is Miss Charlotte." He tipped his hat to her. "Been a while, love, since you've been here. Gone on to better things, I suppose." He looked Chris up and down. "Don't know what you're so upset about. We're doin' this for you." He gestured to Anthony, who would not look up at her. "Are you not grateful? Your brother thought you would be. He's the one that sent this beast here with a note, yeah? He said it was this thing right here that he caught raping you."

Her eyes widened. "What?? No!"

"No?" Pearce looked confused. "But Sebastian was very clear. He said he walked in on you two. That this monster was pinning you down on the dining room table when he knew everyone else was gone. Forcing himself on you till your brother walked in and put a stop to it."

"That's not true." She shook her head. "That's not what happened." Christopher slowly closed his eyes, fearful of what he knew was coming.

"No? Are you calling your own twin brother a liar then?"

She struggled with what to say. She looked from this wretched bully to Anthony and back again. She couldn't sell out her brother but she wouldn't condemn her love either. "No." her voice could barely be heard. She closed her eyes and waited for the repercussions. "It wasn't rape." She felt the last amount of strength she had leave her and Chris took her hand and squeezed it. She looked at her fiance then back to the band of roguish men. Pearce noticed the small amount of comfort Christopher tried to offer her. Anthony appeared devastated.

Pearce turned his attention to Chris. "You're Lord Evans, yes?" He said with a sneer. "Gonna be Earl when your daddy dies, yeah? Aren't you her intended?"

"I am." Chris said defiantly.

"Well surely you won't go through with it now. She's damaged goods. Fornicating with a savage. She ain't never gonna be clean now." He pivoted. "You know I have a daughter. Not as pretty as this tasty bit here but I can promise you she ain't never fucked no slave."

"I plan on honoring my commitment to Charlotte and her father, thank you." Chris was quick to reply. "And seeing as how our houses will be joined, I ask you to not lay another hand on this man as his service as apprentice will be completed under my supervision."

Pearce spat on the ground. "Oh, I see. You're both ignorant twats. You may have a title boy, but that don't change the fact that you're a filthy peasant at heart. You been running through the mud and shit of that backwards countryside since you was a child." He turned toward Charlotte. "And you... all this money can't make a lady out of Irish trash. Having sex with this swine." He gave Anthony another kick in the stomach. "Such a shame. Your name used to mean something, my lord. The Earl of Wiltshire. What are you lord of now? Cows and crumbling castles. A slave, a slut, and her buggering brother." He turned to Charlotte. "You want to save this fiend? Good luck, girl. You want this brute in your home, then you're braver than I, miss. How long until he loses his temper and cuts you all into pieces?"

"How could you say that?" She shouted back at him. "You know nothing about him! He is the kindest, most loving man I ever met. You don't know anything about what he has been through. You're just a jealous thug looking for a reason to hurt someone."

"Is that what you think? You stupid, spoiled little brat." He walked away from Anthony and over to where she and Chris were standing. "I saw what his kind are capable of. You think he's just this poor, downtrodden soul. Fought his way up to being almost civilized. Well let me tell you something, dearie. I saw with my own eyes what monsters like him did to a slave ship. One just like your dad used to own. There was an uprising. One of them got free close to the port of Fort James. In an instant, all hell broke loose. A few of them charged, punching, kicking, throwing the crew overboard. Those were the lucky ones. Once the rest of slaves were freed it turned into a bloodbath. The few swords carried by the traders were no match for the unbridled anger and ferocity that charged at them. They only had their hands at first. Strangling and clawing at anyone who tried to stop them. Then they picked up their keepers' weapons. Appendages were hacked off, sailors were being sliced from stem to stern. Good men, white men, were vomiting from the smell of entrails spilling from their stomachs. Traders were being hung by their own intestines. Nasty, savage business." He paused, then looked back at Anthony who was shuddering against the imagery. "I would say that this piece of filth looked familiar, almost exactly like the beast who started the whole massacre. But I can't tell any of them apart." He gave Charlotte a sickening smile "What do you say?" He called back to Anthony. "You gonna tell this whiskey-soaked whore you were one of them barbarians?" When his captive didn't answer he turned back to Charlotte and Chris. "Nah, I didn't think so." Anthony was doubled over now in agony and shame. Charlotte was paralyzed in horror and misery. Pearce looked at her, disgusted. He turned to his gang and signaled for them to let Anthony go. "Come on boys, let's go inside. I owe you all a round." He faced Charlotte one more time before leaving. "You deserve each other. I hope you all rot in hell."

With Pearce gone, she ran and knelt beside Anthony, starting to unfasten her cloak. Chris stopped her hand and instead placed his own coat over the other man's shoulders. She looked him over, touching his face gingerly. "Are you all right?"

"You shouldn't have come." Anthony mumbled. His lip was starting to swell.

Her fingers found blood running from his temple to his jaw. "You're hurt badly." She looked at him panicked.

"I'll be fine." 

The three of them slowly made their way home in silence.

 

She tucked the blankets around Anthony's chest and fussed over his wounds one last time. She had lovingly cleaned and bandaged each one, from the deepest cut to the smallest scratch. He winced when she hit a particularly tender spot and each time she kissed his cheek as an apology. She poured him a small glass of whiskey. "Here- this will lessen the pain and help you sleep. You need rest to heal." 

He drank it and made a face. "Strong."

She gave him a little smile. "I certainly hope so. My father paid a small fortune for it." She took the glass and set it on the nightstand. "I'm staying in the bedroom right next door. If you need anything, just shout. Try to get some sleep my love." She kissed each of his cheeks and his forehead and blew out the bedside candles.

She left and entered the adjoining guest room. She tried to think of what she was going to tell her father the next morning. How would she explain Anthony sleeping on the main floor and why exactly he had a face that looked like week-old mincemeat pie. Chris had followed her and stood in the doorway.

"Your affection for him is evident." She looked at him without saying anything. "You are very devoted to him."

"Yes, my lord." She looked at him, eyes pleading. If only he could release her from this stupid plan before things got worse...

He looked back at her and he seemed sad but resolute.

"Charlotte..."

 

"Yes, Christopher?"

 

 

"You must send him away." She looked at him horrified.

 

"As long as he remains here, he is a danger to you and everyone else in this house."

"Chris..."

"I'm sorry Charlotte. He may continue to convalesce here until he is well enough to leave." Her eyes started to flood with emotion and it was more than Chris could bear. "Good night." He closed her door and heard her fall to her knees and begin to weep.

 

"You made the right decision, Lord Evans." Sebastian was waiting for him in the hallway.

Chris whipped around and slammed Sebastian against the wall. "Do you have any idea how you have ruined three lives tonight!?"

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. "She would have never truly been your wife while he was around. You know this is true."

"Anthony could have been killed! Your sister is devastated! And now I'm the monster she has to marry!" Chris couldn't stop his emotions from finally boiling over.

"Well maybe it's time you all started to make better choices."

Chris's fingers closed over the other man's throat. "If our fathers weren't sleeping nearby, I would pummel your pompous face into a pulp."

"Always so quick with those fists." Sebastian reached up and curled his fingers over Chris's hands. He slowly removed them from his neck. "Maybe try using your brain for once." He could see Chris stiffen up again. "Stop acting like this a fucking fairy tale. Life is full of disappointments and compromises. Sometimes you have to make terrible choices for a greater good. I don't want my sister heartbroken anymore than you do. But she would never let him go on her own. And you, being so nice would never force her hand the way you should. All I did was make sure the plan that both of our families are relying on goes forward."

"She'll never forgive you."

Sebastian acted like he didn't care. "Perhaps. But unlike you two, I know sacrifices must be made. Good night, Christopher."


	12. Chapter 12

The Next Morning

Christopher knocked softly on Anthony's door. When he heard Charlotte say, 'Come in', he did so quietly. "Milady, it is time for breakfast."

Charlotte was cradling Anthony's hand in one of her own. The other hand was delicately stroking his forehead as he drifted in and out of sleep. "I'm not hungry, my lord."

"Yes, I figured. All the same, your father would like to speak to you."

She looked back at him and Chris could see her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. "Of course." she said hoarsely. She kissed Anthony's forehead and slowly followed Chris's lead into the study.

Sebastian was already there, sitting in one of the giant wing chairs. Lt. Flynn was waiting patiently at his desk. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"It has come to my attention that there was an incident last night. Something about an altercation involving Anthony?"

"There was indeed, sir. I am sorry your daughter was involved." Christopher spoke up first.

Thomas looked pointedly at Charlotte. "Involved. Yes, I've been told you were quite keen on defending our butler. I found that a bit curious. Running out so late at night, just to speak up for one of our servants?"

"He's a good man, father." Her voice was weak, but only from exhaustion.

"Yes." her father admitted. "He has been loyal to this family for years."

"Quite loyal." Sebastian couldn't help himself.

"Well I suppose if it wasn't Anthony that dragged you out into the city after dark, than there is no need to punish him. Seems the lad has suffered enough. And you rushed to his defense and seem so eager to speak to his character that I am willing to forgive him for getting you all caught up in this nasty business."

"Oh yes," Sebastian smirked, "we really are quite enamored of him."

"He may continue to rest then in the guest quarters?" Charlotte asked, ignoring her brother. "I've been nursing him there. The cellar is so dark and cold."

"You've been nursing him? I didn't think you were the motherly type."

"Yes, father." Flynn finally noticed her rumpled dress and the wisps of hair falling out of her normally meticulously braided hair. She looked like she had aged a decade in one day. "Remember when I would bring home all those strays when I was little? Cats, mice, any animal I thought needed me?"

"How fitting." Sebastian mumbled.

She bit her cheek and continued. "It would be just be for a short while."

Chris cleared his throat. "I have already informed Charlotte that once Anthony is on the mend, it would be best if he left. I would want no further misfortune to befall my future family."

The lieutenant turned to him. "And you didn't think that you should, perhaps, check with Anthony's actual employer before making such a decision?"

"I'm sorry sir, I was only-"

"Impressive." Flynn interrupted. "A man who makes a hard decision and has the courage to stand by it." He gave Christopher an approving smile. Sebastian bristled watching his father so clearly impressed with another.

Thomas appeared to mull things over for a moment before exhaling. "Well, I guess that's sorted. I'll let you all get on with your day." Chris and Sebastian both left without speaking to each other. As Charlotte began to exit the room, her father cleared his throat. "Charlotte, darling. A word."

She felt her heart sink. She shut her eyes and tried to steel herself before finally turning around. "Yes, father?"

"Close the door." She did so and stood before him nervously. "I know your interest in Anthony's well being is more that just charitable. I have, in fact, known about the two of you for quite some time. I allowed it because, despite the tawdriness of it all, I had no real objection. I know he is a decent fellow, and as long as it remained a secret, I let you continue. He did seem to improve your mood and it kept you from staying out late all the time. Unfortunately, now it is no longer a secret and I ask you to have no further notions of any sort of romance happening between the two of you. I thought the match between you and a more suitable suitor would be enough to turn your attention away from the help. Anthony was, in fact, one of the major reasons I pushed so hard for the betrothal of you and Lord Evans. Yes, I am tickled beyond words that my daughter will soon be a countess but while marrying up, I was also ensuring you would not couple down. I have worked very hard to get our little family out of the slobs and squalor by the Wexford docks and into respectable society. I will not have that undone because of some infatuation you have with... him. "

"But Father, he's not just some servant. He saved your life."

"And I have rewarded him fairly. Charlotte, we finally have everything we want. Money, land, a title-"

"That is everything you want. Everything Sebastian wants. I don't care about those things."

"Only because you don't know. As a child you didn't see. Your mother and I made sure you and your brother's bellies were always full, even if it meant we went hungry. You never cared about how small our house was. You didn't wonder why you rarely had shoes on your feet in the summer. But I saw it happening. What had happened to my own family. The filth and the sickness from only eating herring and potatoes. Drinking buttermilk with every meal. I wanted better for all of us. I worked my fingers raw and it still wasn't enough. I could tell I was losing your mum. I wasn't about to lose you two. So I fought. And I ended up doing horrible things. Things I regret now. But we are here, and you and your children, and their children will never starve. So I won't have you ruining this family and my sacrifices with some childish fantasy. I'm sorry. I genuinely wish there was a way for you to have everything you want, including a man you love. But this is the way it has to be."

She looked at him. There was nothing else she could say. "May I go?"

He nodded then added warmly. "It will get easier, love. Hearts do mend." He tried to comfort her as she walked out.

 

Charlotte was sliding into her nightgown, getting ready to retire to bed after another day of watching over Anthony. Sebastian came in and picked up the dress she had left on the floor, draping it over a chair. "You haven't been to dinner in days." He remarked. Charlotte didn't respond. "Are you on a hunger strike until you get your way?"

She was quiet for a long time. She turned off all but one of the lanterns in her room. "Why?" she said meekly. "I did nothing but go along with everyone else's plans for me this entire time. I never said I wasn't going to marry Christopher. Why do that to Anthony?"

"Because I am tired of watching you hellbent on ruining everything we worked hard for. Sure, the lieutenant had money but it was us, you and I, who earned a name for ourselves. All the miserable parties, stupid balls and masquerades. All the homely girls I had to flirt with. All the old men you let kiss your cheek. All the times you died inside while laughing at an awful joke or cruel observation, just like I did. All so we could be something. Known. Accepted. Better than the children we were, crawling around the sawdust and mouse droppings. And it was working. Blue bloods who can trace their nobility for generations were hanging on our every word. Holding their breath until we arrived at every boring soiree. And you want to toss all that aside? For what? Someone who shouldn't be allowed to talk to you let alone have his paws all over you?"

She shook her head. "You have no idea. You honestly just have no idea what he means to me." Sebastian chuffed and she continued. "I understand everything. I know I must do what is asked of me. I know that despite every instinct I have- telling me to run. To take Anthony by the hand and just run until everyone stops looking for us- I won't. I won't disappoint Father. Or Christopher. Or his father. I don't even wish to disappoint you. I will be good and obedient. But what about you? What is asked of you? What will you do? You are a wealthy bachelor now. Surely your marriage prospects have been discussed."

"Oh, I am going to marry a rich, ugly girl. Someone fat who is thrilled that someone like me would want to touch them, and someone so lazy that they can't muster up much anger when I don't come home at night."

She snorted at his callousness. "You've never been in love, have you?"

"Oh, I fall in love every day." He smiled. "The girl who serves me my afternoon tea, the neighbor's footman, the lovely gentleman who checks me in every Friday at Grenier's." His face resorted back to a sneer. "No, of course I've never been in love, Charlotte. I'm not a fool. You, however, still have the mind of an idiot young girl. Why does it even matter to you so much? Something as changeable as love. One night your whole world is centered on the person asleep in your arms and by the next morning you see them in the light of day and they make you ill. Love. You act like it's the most important thing on earth when in truth it has the permanence of a wispy dandelion seed. Money is real. This house is real. And sex." He grinned. "Sex is real."

"And what will you do, Sebastian, when the all those pretty little boys and girls no longer want you? When you're old and wrinkled and too feeble-minded to be charming anymore? When you can't just smile and bite your lip and have the entire room fantasizing about you in their bed?"

"When then I'll pay them to take me into their beds."

She furrowed her brow. "What a horrible little man you turned into."

He looked at her and she could see his carefully crafted cynicism starting to crack. "It's not horrible. It's safe." He clenched his jaw and his eyes were illuminated with emotion. "How do you do it? How do you let your heart be open and vulnerable after... after mom? How can you let yourself be hurt again?"

Her eyes widened. "How can you not? It's the only thing that matters, Sebastian. The people around us. The people we love."

"But aren't you scared?"

"I'm terrified. But I'm not like you. I can't turn it off. I know it would be easier if I could."

Sebastian looked mournful. "It's not easy." He acted like he had something else to say then thought the better of it. "Good night, sister." He left and she watched the door close behind him.

 

Sebastian stood in front of the small table, rinsing his razor in the wash basin and inspecting his chin for any stray hairs. He gave his face one final splash of water and when he opened his eyes he saw Anthony looking at him in the mirror.

Sebastian pretended he wasn't rattled. "Oh good, you're up. I hope that means you'll be leaving soon." He patted his face dry while Anthony continued to stare. "I get it. You're upset. It is a very unfortunate situation."

"It didn't have to be this way." Anthony's voice was low and measured.

"No." Sebastian turned around to face him. "But you're too stupid and my sister too big of a whore to stop fucking each other long after propriety dictated it unseemly." Anthony cocked his arm back and threw a punch aimed at Sebastian's face. Sebastian ducked in the nick of time and Anthony's fist hit the frame of the mirror instead, causing the basin underneath to fall to the floor and crash into a pieces.

Sebastian smiled. "Sorry. This may come as no surprise but I have had quite a bit of practice dodging punches."

In response Anthony grabbed Sebastian by his collar and pushed him against one of the bed posts. "You took the only good thing I had in this world!" His fingers curled tighter around Sebastian's shirt. "You just see me as some savage. Some animal who crawled out of the jungle and into your sister's bed. But I had a family once. A woman I adored, children I was proud of, a home, a real home, where I was respected. It was all stolen from me. And now I am left with nothing again and for what? Because of greed and the egos of little men who know nothing about me." Sebastian saw a flicker of hurt amongst the anger in Anthony's face. "You think I love Charlotte because she is pretty? No. I love her because she is the only person here who ever asked about my home, my past. What music I enjoyed and what paintings fascinated me. She saw me as a man, not just chattle. I suffer in a city where I'm not even considered a human being and yet am surrounded by debauchery and filth created by men who think they are better than me. And once more they threaten my life and my love."

Sebastian seemed unbothered by Anthony's words. "So what are you going to do?" He glared at his assailant. "Flay us and burn us alive like you did to that slave ship?" Anthony let go with one hand, using it to pick up the razor and hold it to Sebastian's throat.

"Us? No. Just you. I knew my time with Charlotte would have to come to an end. I only wanted every second of her time before she left for good. But you had to meddle. Turn our good bye from sweet melancholy into misery. Ruin reputations just to feel superior." He moved the blade up Sebastian's neck to his face. "Perhaps I will not kill you, just carve a bit of flesh from your cheek. Your pretty face is all you have. Who would you be if that was gone?"

"Still rich." Sebastian said dryly.

Anthony dragged the razor over Sebastian's sharp jawline. Sebastian looked over Anthony's shoulder and saw Chris who had been lingering in the door frame. "You're not going to stop him?"

"Stop him?" Chris's voice was cold as he walked into the room. "You're lucky I'm not helping him."

Anthony didn't take his eyes off Sebastian. "Since everyone seems to think I am no more than a violent animal anyway... What reason is there to stop me from killing you?" 

"If you think that will make you feel better." Sebastian didn't struggle to free himself. "I'm just thankful you are being sent away before you could curse my sister with some half-breed child."

Anthony bashed the back of Sebastian's head against the bed post. He pressed the razor hard against the tender flesh under Sebastian's ear until blood appeared. "If she wasn't your sister, I would slit your throat." He hissed at the other man, leaning in close to Sebastian's face.

Sebastian got closer, pressing his forehead against Anthony's and spit back. "You would be hung before I even hit the floor." He turned his head slightly and pressed his lips against Anthony's cheek. The other man stepped back quickly in surprise, releasing a sneering Sebastian from his grip.

"Anthony?" Charlotte's soft voice cut through the tense scene as she looked at each of three men in turn. She saw the small trickle of blood that trailed down Sebastian's neck and disappeared into his shirt. She noticed the razor still gripped in Anthony's trembling fist. And she observed Christopher not intervening. She turned back to her love. "You should be resting. Come, let's get you back in bed." Anthony dropped the small knife on the floor and took her hand. She looked back at her brother with such sorrow that Sebastian almost regretted his actions.

Once everyone had left, he pressed the towel to his neck and rubbed the back of his head. He looked in the mirror and regarded the face that stared back at him. His appearance, once a source of pride, now only reflected anguish. He cursed and knocked the looking glass over in frustration, causing it to splinter and crack.


	13. Chapter 13

Charlotte found Anthony the next morning quiet and contemplative. It was almost a typical morning for them, her walking into the conservatory where they had always met after breakfast. Instead of sketching at the desk, though, he was staring out into the courtyard below where the tree leaves had turned from crisp green to warm gold. Through the open window in front of him, the breeze carried with it a slight chill.

"I'll miss this view." Anthony said softly.

"I'll miss this one." Charlotte she said, staring at him. He turned to her and gave her a small smile. She tried her best to smile back, but he could see the sorrow in her expression.

He reached out his hand and she rushed into his arms. She held on to him, tighter perhaps than she ever had before. She surrendered completely to his embrace as if she could no longer hold herself up. She seemed small to him and he wondered had she always felt so frail? When she pulled away and looked at him he could see it wasn't just his imagination. She did seem fragile, more delicate. And it was more than her refusal to eat these past few days, no. Her face seemed haunted, hollowed by solemn shadows.

She spied the piano behind him and tried to look cheerful. "At least you won't be subjected to my awful singing anymore."

"You are too modest, love. Your singing is no where near terrible. In fact-"

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "No Anthony. I suppose this where you get all flowery and tell me my singing is the sweetest thing you've ever heard in the world."

"No, my Charlotte." And at first his eyes sparkled with mirth but he pursed his lips and laid his hands on her cheeks. His tone was more serious now and he brushed his lips softly against hers. "The sweetest thing I ever heard was you whispering my name, all alone in my tiny bedroom. Like a little melody, meant only for me."

She looked up at him and though her eyes were wet, she did not cry. She hugged him tight again, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her head in his shoulder. He heard her inhale sharply then felt her warm breath on his skin as she sighed. "Oh my Anthony... they can take everything from us. They can even stop us from ever seeing each other again. But they can't make me stop loving you." She lifted her head and kissed him softly. "Until my last breath..."

He returned the kiss and felt the sting as one of her tears warmed his cheek. "Shhh, love. No sadness. From now on, whenever you think of me, wherever you are, I want you to smile. Every time. Think of how lucky we have been. Most people live their entire lives without feeling what we have for each other." He combed his fingers slowly through her hair. "So even on your worst days, your loneliest days, let your heart be comforted knowing that you were loved completely. And that even on my saddest, loneliest days, I am somewhere also smiling, thinking of you."

Her eyes searched his and she tried not to be maudlin but her emotions threatened to get the best of her. "But how will I live without you? Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't think so, love." He could see that even though he was trying to be realistic, she looked at him hopefully. "It was part of the arrangement. Between your father, Lord Evans, and myself. I leave London and I never come back and everything between us must cease." He could see the desperation in her eyes and he drew her close again and kissed her forehead. "It will keep you safe, my darling."

"Will it keep you safe?" She asked sadly.

"As much as I can hope for."

She took his hand in hers, letting their fingers intertwine, and they somberly made their way to the front hall where Anthony's bags were waiting by the door. He took the one with the longer strap and slung it over his shoulder. She undid all the locks on the front door and after the last one, he looked down at her with a sad smile. "My darling Charlotte, I can confidently say I will never love anyone the way I love you."

She smiled sadly. "Nor will I, my Anthony."

His fingers lightly trace under her ear, over her jaw to her chin. They move delicately down her throat until his hand finally rests above her chest. "I can feel your heart."

"Well, I should think so. It only beats for you. It goes wherever you go."

"Well then I'm afraid it's going very far away."

She nodded sadly. "Will you be all right?" her voice barely croaked out.

"I think so, love. Will you be all right?"

"No." she answered honestly. "But I will try."

The house was eerily quiet and she figured its inhabitants knew well enough to give them a moment to themselves. As they engaged in one final embrace and shared one more stolen kiss, she did her best not to weep. His second bag now in his left hand, he walked down the front steps and down the sidewalk getting smaller and smaller. It wasn't until he turned around and, seeing her still watching him, gave her a smile and a small wave. That's when the tears came. That's when it truly felt like good-bye. That was when she knew it was the last time she would ever see him.

 

 

Christopher and Charlotte spent the first part of their journey back to Castle Combe in silence. It wasn't until about an hour into their travels that Charlotte finally spoke.

"Well, you dare not tell anyone your trip to London was boring."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that." He raised his eyebrows. He then stole a glance at her and seeing her expression, grew serious. "I am very sorry about Anthony."

She sighed. "Well... that wasn't your fault. The machinations of my awful brother. Your instincts were correct. Anthony will be safer outside the city. Safer without me."

"Perhaps, but I still ache over the whole situation. There was no need to traumatize either one of you in such a way."

Charlotte sighed. "Don't burden yourself with undue guilt. Anthony and I's story was never going to have a happy ending anyway." she said wistfully.

Chris regarded her, concerned. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes." She looked back out the window of the carriage. "You can never mention him again. I'd rather he become something distant and nebulous. Perhaps in time I can convince myself it was all just a dream."

Chris looked down. "I suppose that is for the best. Once we get home you will have to start acting more like my wife."

Her head turned to him quickly. "I'm sorry. What's that, my lord?"

"I only mean your dalliances may have been tolerated in London but I will not stand for my intended disrespecting me in my own home. Our home. You have toured my village. You have seen. Everyone knows everything about everybody. They will soon know everything about you as well. I am not judging your past; I only tell you this as a warning. You can dispel any notion you have of looking for a replacement."

"A replacement?" she thought she heard him wrong.

"For Anthony."

"A replacement for Anthony?" She really was incredulous. "I didn't lose a ring or misplace a glove. I can replace Anthony no easier than I can replace an arm or my eyesight. He is a part of who I am." She looked down and collected herself and her voice was softer. "No need to worry about me looking to replace him. It is an impossible task. No one has ever made me feel the way he has." She looked up at him. "And no one ever will."

Chris didn't speak for a long while. He seemed to be mulling something over in his head. "Charlotte? Do you think, if things were different, and with enough time, we could ever learn to love each other?"

She stared at him. He noticed how lifeless her eyes seemed now. "We don't have to, my lord. We just have to tolerate each other. Be cordial. Show up at events together and have enough children to ensure our family line continues to another generation. I promise to not get in your way if you promise to grant me solitude. It is all I wish for now."

"You don't have to be alone, you know. I do care about you, Charlotte. Not just because of my vows as your husband but as someone who recognizes a heart of gold and fire. I like you. I know things are dreadful at the moment but they may not always be. Try to not wallow too long. Please don't see this house as a prison."

She looked at him and gave him a wan smile. "Of course my lord. Perhaps I just need a little time."

 

They had been at the manor house for a few hours and Charlotte had begun unpacking one of her trunks in the bedroom adjoining Chris's. While arranging her shoes she heard footsteps in the hallway that she recognized as belonging to her future husband. "Oh Christopher!" She called out, hurrying across her room and into the hall. "I wanted to talk to you about maybe redesigning the library to include some more modern-" she stopped when she saw him. He had already changed into his riding attire. "Oh... nevermind... we can discuss it later. It's a silly thing and I'm sure you missed... the countryside."

"Perhaps we can talk after dinner." He said, his body already veering towards the staircase. She nodded and went back into her chambers.

 

Chris rode fast into the forest. He saw Viola, waiting next to her own horse and he dismounted hastily, almost tumbling into her.

"Christopher!" She was almost giddy to be near him again. "I want to hear everything about London. Was it as exciting as I imagine?"

"Exciting is certainly one word for it. Those city dwellers are an intense people. It's exhausting living in that world." 

She hugged him tight, nuzzling his neck, surrounding herself with his scent. "It is so good to have you home."

He took her face in his hands and stared at her. "It is good to be home." He kissed her slow and long, letting himself savor her touch.

She pulled away and looked up at him hungrily. "I can't wait for things to get back to normal. Late night conversations... hours in your bed... lazy mornings tangled together."

"Well.. things can't exactly return to the way they were." She looked perplexed. "Once I am married, we will have to be more subtle in our affection. Charlotte and I may not be in love with each other but we have promised to always be respectful. I understand your feelings but she has given up much to make this union work. I will not minimize her sacrifice by openly carrying on with someone else. Her bedroom is next to mine and obviously there will be nights when she is called upon to perform... wifely duties." Viola's eyes widened. "You can't be that surprised, love. You have to have known a husband and wife will be expected to produce children."

"Well, you're very matter of fact about this."

"Well, it is the way things have to be. There's no use getting emotional about something that we all knew was inevitable."

"I'm not allowed to be upset when the man I've been in love with my entire life just casually tells me I'll be pushed aside to spare the feelings of some girl he barely knows?"

"You are welcome to feel however you like, I just think it's unnecessary when you have known for months about this arrangement. You have had time to come to terms with this."

She shook her head disbelievingly. "Has London really changed you all that much in only a few weeks?"

"It hasn't changed me. Just matured me. There is a whole different world outside these forests. Things were pleasant here but simple. I've learned a lot from my time with the Flynns. Not the least of all that you can be a good person and it doesn't mean shit. Everyone seems destined to suffer in some way."

"You sound like him. Like Sebastian."

He furrowed his brow. "I honestly hope you are joking."

"You do. All callous and jaded. Just like him."

"I'm not callous. Just smarter."

"Right."

"So, I'm sorry but things will be a bit different here. I mean, we can't pretend we're still teenagers. Sneaking around. Tumbling in the hay on a rainy afternoon. It's unbecoming. Of both of us. I must start to act like the Lord of this house."

"And what do I have to act like?"

"Like you know your place." That sounded colder than he intended and he tried to soften his tone. "Viola, there are English rules of decorum and decency that must be followed or else society falls into chaos. You don't understand. You're not from here."

"Not from here?! I've lived here since I was seven years old!"

"That's not the same. There is a quiet defeat and desperation that lives in us. Resignation, I suppose, that life will most likely not be what you want."

"Why are you saying all these things?"

"I just feel everyone should know what is expected of them going forward." He turned and tightened his horse's saddle.

"You're leaving already?" She said weakly. "But I haven't seen you in over a month."

"I'm sorry, Vi. I just need to be alone." He swung himself astride his mount.

"I made your favorite for supper." She volunteered, hoping to mollify him. "Pheasant. Your favorite is still pheasant, right? That hasn't changed as well?"

"That will be fine." He gathered the reins in his hands. "Just watch the salt, if you don't mind." He began trotting away. "Sometimes it's like you've never heard of a clove."


	14. Chapter 14

November 1811

Charlotte had been trying her best to make herself a friendly, yet unobtrusive resident in her new home. She enjoyed afternoons in her room sewing, reading or wandering the paths in the garden. 

She and Christopher spent most of their mornings chatting over breakfast and then sitting in the study, going over plans for the manor house's renovations or wedding preparations.

"The banns have marriage have been read three weeks in a row with no objections."

"Good."

"So, it is now official. We can be wed as soon as we like."

"Yes, my lord."

"Probably best to get it done with. Next month perhaps?"

"Yes, I have already finished the guest list and begun on the invitations. Now I can add a date and send them off."

"How are the plans for the ceremony going?"

"Well. Shall I run everything by you when the menu is finalized?"

Chris waved her off. "No need. I have confidence in your ability to throw a party.

"But you will be joining me for the cake tasting on Saturday?" 

"I wouldn't miss it. The entire staff is in a frenzy over whose recipes will be chosen for the big day." Charlotte laughed softly. Christopher looked at her warmly. "You have been fitting in here quite well. No one has anything but kind words for you. And you have certainly begun whipping this house into order. Upgrades, improvements, changes to the decor. Can I ask you if you are you planning on changing everything?"

"No, of course not. Just certain things that need our attention. Curtains that need mending. Tables that are wobbly. This house will be amazing-" She saw his expression grow almost hostile and she tried to amend her meaning. "I mean, it's perfectly lovely now, it just..."

He broke into a smile. "I'm teasing you."

"Oh." She grinned. "Well, I also thought maybe we could start on your mother's greenhouse in the spring?"

"That would make me very happy." His sincere smile made her blush. "Have you any ideas on who we could hire for such work?"

"I thought perhaps there would be someone in the village we could employ?" She asked. "Someone who would care about it. And I have seen the craftsmanship of the houses and buildings in town. They are all very well made."

Chris beamed. "I was hoping you would say that."

 

On one of those mornings a few days later, Charlotte sat at the desk with a large piece of parchment unfurled in front of her. It had plans for the first floor and the rebuilding of the stables. Since Chris was ten times the equestrian she was, she wanted his opinion on what exactly the layout should be. As Chris considered it, he leaned over her shoulder. 'Did he always smell like evergreen and leather?' she wondered. She pointed to something in the far corner, knowing he'd have to lean in closer. He did and a part of his chest pressed against her shoulder.

"Is it really necessary to have giant entrances on both the west and east sides of the barn?" he asked.

"Well, it's just..." she looked up at him and his face was much closer than she anticipated. Her eyes widened as their noses almost touched. She froze like that and for a daft moment she thought about kissing him.

"It's just... if we have doors on more than one side I thought it might air it out a bit. Keep it cool in summer." She turned back to the blueprints.

"Yes, but harder to keep warmer in the winter." He said.

"Yes of course." She picked up the quill pen and began to "x" out one of the entrances. He stopped her, closing his fingers over her tiny wrist.

"We could always invest in more blankets?" he offered.

"Right." she kept her eyes on the parchment, noting that his hand lingered on her skin long after she had stopped trying to write. When he released her arm, she then gazed up at him and his expression was different than any she had seen before from him.

"My lord?" His valet called from the hallway.

Chris quickly turned and stood up sharply. "Yes, what is it, Aaron?"

"A letter has arrived from Chelmsford."

Chris nodded and excused himself. "We shall continue these plans tomorrow, yes?"

She nodded. "Of course, my lord."

 

She couldn't be entirely positive but she was pretty sure that the strong wine that was served at dinner was making her more mirthful than usual this evening. It also didn't hurt that Christopher had moved from his usual seat across the table to one right next to her. There were many different small plates set out before them, all featuring a different sugary concoction. The cooks and bakers had decided to turn the selection of the wedding cake into a contest. They each had prepared a specialty or two of theirs, hoping they would get the honor of baking for an event featuring nobility from far and wide.

"I suppose you will be wanting something intricate and seven layers high?" Christopher teased her.

Charlotte arched an eyebrow. "No... I only want what tastes the best. I want to show our guests that good food can be found outside of London." They took turns sampling little bits of of everything, remarking on richness, flavor, and the ability to be produced for nearly two hundred guests.

After what seemed like her tenth sample, she took a bite of something small and cinnamon-flavored. "Oh my goodness..." she closed her eyes in happiness. "This. This is incredible. Chris you have to try this." She offered him her fork and he slid his lips over it.

"Mmm..." he nodded in agreement. "That is pure Jeanette. I would know her butter cream anywhere." Charlotte unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh as Christopher blushed. "You know what I meant."

"Mmmhmmm." she smirked.

"Lord Evans, Miss Charlotte." Laura, one of the cooks, interrupted. "May I present the piece de resistance."

"Oh my goodness, there's more?" They both looked at the door expectantly. When Viola walked in, Charlotte could see the instant change in Christopher. His posture straightened and his face relaxed.

"Sorry..." Viola started to apologize. "I was waiting for the honey to be warm enough to drizzle over the top without being too thick."

"I'm sure it's perfection." Chris smiled at her and the two stared at each other for a beat too long. Charlotte started to feel like an intruder in her own wedding preparations.

Charlotte lifted her fork and took a bite. "This is incredible."

"Of course it is, Viola never disappoints."

Charlotte swallowed hard, trying not show emotion. "Viola, do tell me where did you get berries like this at the end of autumn?"

"Oh, I canned the very best of them months ago. These have been sitting in sugar and juice since then."

"Remarkable."

"You would have enough to make this for all our guests?"

"Yes my lord."

"Then I think we have found our winner." Christopher smiled at her. Viola only had a feeble grin in return and curtsied before leaving.

Charlotte set down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Christopher, I am afraid this wine has made me very sleepy. I shall see you in the morning?"

"Of course, milady. Good night."

 

 

Charlotte stared up at the canopy of her bed for what seemed like hours. She had been drifting in and out of sleep all night. This was how she spent most of her nights. Struggling to fall asleep and then when her body did finally succumb to exhaustion it only allowed her a few moments rest before jolting awake again.

Her days were largely tolerable. She would walk along the garden paths, even covered with crunchy snow, they held an enchanting beauty. She could take the carriage into the village and try to get to know her new neighbors. Only a few of them seemed to mind the slight lilt of her Irish brogue. Or she could read, whether in the library, study, or the seclusion of her room.

But nights... nights could be torturous. Everything seemed to remind her of him. Any allusion to romance in a book. The scent of a recently snuffed out candle. The cold, empty pillow next to hers where she was used to seeing Anthony gazing at her drowsily or snoring softly as she grazed her fingertips through the curls on his chest. She looked over at the clock on her nightstand that was barely illuminated by the flickering, almost dead candle next to it. It was three a.m. Of course it was, she frowned. The witching hour as her mother used to call it.

She slid out of bed and crept up to the window seat that always seemed to embrace her no matter what time of day. She sat silently, gazing up at the black sky and twinkling stars, trying not to resign herself to despair. "Oh Anthony..." she sighed softly, whispering his name into the cold air. "I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to smile like you said." She felt almost choked by her breath, the last words getting strangled by the growing lump in her throat. "But I miss you so much."

Try as she might, she couldn't prevent the tears from spilling over her cheek. She wiped them away and heard a loud thud coming from Chris's room next door. She turned toward the sound of the noise which was almost instantly followed by feminine giggling.

"Shhh..." came a decidedly not female voice. "Someone might hear."

More giggling was heard followed by a, "So sorry my lord. But who even is awake at this hour?"

Charlotte heard what sounded like a male growl followed by girly shrieking. She sighed and slid back into bed, covering her ears with the spare pillow. She looked out the window until finally, as the sun started to color the sky from black to navy to royal blue, she fell asleep.

 

December- Wedding Day

There was a soft knock on her bedroom door and to her surprise it was Sebastian who entered. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see my sister get married. Become a countess."

"What are you doing here in my room?"

Sebastian dug into his coat pocket. "I have something for you."

He presented her with a small box which she was reticent to open. She looked at him and he only projected a warm, expectant smile. She opened it and inside were two small gold earrings.

"These were mother's." she whispered, looking at him in shock. "She used to wear them every day. They were one of father's first gifts to her."

"Yes."

"But she sold them. I remember quite clearly us tagging along while she brought them to the pawn shop. She was very quiet that day. I think the only time she spoke was when she placed these on the counter and said, "Please be generous. We can't afford to miss another month's rent."

"Aye, she did."

"So how did you get these?"

"I went back. I talked to the owner. I told him those earrings were my mother's favorite thing in the entire world. I offered to buy them back but the small coin I had been holding onto for a rainy day just made him laugh. I asked if I could work there. I was willing to do whatever they wanted for however long they wanted. They said yes. After about a month of sweeping and chasing rats out of the cellar, I got to bring them home."

"But Sebastian, I don't think we were more than ten years old at the time."

"Eleven." He shrugged. "I just wanted to make mom smile."

"I bet you succeeded. But I never saw her wear them again."

"She gave them back to me. She told me I had a good heart and I should give them to the girl I fell in love with. And well... we both know that's unlikely to happen so I thought she would want for you to have them. Anyway... I know they're a bit plain and I don't know if they match your dress or not but..."

"Sebastian... they're perfect. Thank you."

"You're a lot like her you know. It's why you scare me sometimes. Love meant everything to her as well."

"Well, that didn't get her very far, did it?"

"Charlotte..."

She sighed. "I understand. She's the reason I'm here, isn't it? It's not for some title. It's to keep me safe. Wouldn't want another tragic loss to befall you or father."

"Charlotte, please..."

"Thank you for the earrings. It really does mean a lot. I'll see you at the ceremony." She turned and sat at her vanity table but Sebastian didn't leave. "Please rejoin the Lieutenant. I need to get ready."

 

Charlotte continued to sit, not making an attempt to prepare herself for the impending nuptials. Her dress was carelessly laying on her bed. Viola quietly came in and saw her not even close to being ready. "Ma'am?" When Charlotte didn't answer, Viola continued. "The ceremony is due to start shortly." Charlotte looked at her and Viola could see the other woman had been crying. "Oh dear... your eyes are all puffy! Here-" She dipped a small cloth in the water basin and after wringing it out, pressed it gently against Charlotte's face. "I would have thought your room would be a hive of activity now. Ladies all around powdering your cheeks, curling your hair, tightening laces on your corset."

"I sent them away. I couldn't bear their excited conversations."

"Mmm." Viola removed the cloth and looked at Charlotte's face with satisfaction. "That's a little better." She held up the wedding gown, marveling at the intricate beading and embroidery. It was heavy. She dared not think what a dress like that would cost. She brought it over to Charlotte who mindlessly stepped into it, letting herself be tethered inside. "Your hair, milady."

"What about my hair?"

Viola looked up at the wild curls that framed Charlotte's face. "Well, I only mean that ladies typically have their hair up for formal events. Braided and coiled."

"And tamed?" Charlotte gave her a little smile.

"Yes, milady."

"I think I'll leave it like this."

Finally ready, Charlotte reached for Viola's hand. "Will you walk with me downstairs? I feel a little unsteady." They reached the main level and looked at the small chapel that was across the courtyard. They could see people already gathered near the entrance as a small amount of snow began to fall.

"I can't do this." Charlotte whispered.

"I wish you wouldn't." Viola's expression of anguish mirrored Charlotte's. She squeezed the bride's hand gently. "But you have to."

"I suppose." They continued to watch guests file in. Charlotte felt Viola tense up her grip when she saw Sebastian and Lt. Flynn. Finally Lord Evans and his father could be seen, shaking hands and entering the chapel where music began to play.

The clothes Sebastian had made for Christopher as a wedding present were once again exquisite and Charlotte remembered Viola had never seen him in custom made couture before. "He really is quite handsome." Charlotte whispered.

Viola was quiet at first, seeing an inverted version of her ultimate fantasy unfolding before her eyes. "He's always been handsome. He doesn't need some suit he'll never wear again to prove it."

They continued to watch and as it seemed the last of the guests was seated, Charlotte turned to Viola. "I suppose this is it then."

Viola's stomach dropped as she continued to look across to the chapel where she could see Christopher nervously waiting. "There are worse fates, milady."

Charlotte turned to her and saw her own sadness reflected in the other woman's eyes. "Indeed there are." She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, walking alone to her new husband.


	15. Chapter 15

The ceremony passed in a blur. The faces that surrounded them, some familiar, some strange, all looked adequately pleased. At what, Charlotte didn't know. The marriage of herself and Christopher? Being invited? The string quartet that played as she treaded down the aisle? Who could say? What did it matter? As long as they were happy. As long as everyone else was happy... she took a deep breath and projected delight and grace as she made her way towards her destiny.

The vows they had rehearsed that didn't come out quite right, she didn't think anyone else would notice but they seemed hollow. Not the way she had heard them in her head. And then finally, that moment.

"I now pronounce you Lord and Lady Evans. You may kiss the bride."

She instantly felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on them. She studied him, remembering his hesitance at their engagement party. 'Just kiss me' she thought. 'Viola isn't even here. It's what everyone wants.'

Christopher looked at her, obviously aware of what was expected of him.

He leaned in... and kissed her cheek. "Goddamnit." she whispered. His effort to please the one person who wasn't even in the room made her aggravated. "Must save something for tonight, yes?" He said as he pulled back, loud enough for a few choice people to hear. His father behind him smirked. Charlotte eyed her now husband curiously.

He ignored her suspicions and turned to face the congregation. Holding his hand, she turned with him and they both sported their most warm, if not radiant, smiles. Nodding at each wedding goer, the newly wed led the procession to the dining hall.

In a whirl of food and toasts and dancing, Chris and Charlotte were far too occupied with greeting all the revelers than spending much time with each other. Charlotte could feel her brother's eyes on her and she wondered why he looked so disconcerted. The ceremony was over. She had done her part. The Flynns were now members of English nobility. Why did he look so dyspeptic?

His gaze though was at least tempered occasionally by the need for another drink, or the flirtations of a pretty female, or the look from an intrigued boy across the room. Viola had no such distractions, and was focused solely on Christopher. She dreaded seeing him show any affection towards Charlotte but at the same time found herself unable to look away. Maybe seeing it was easier than imagining it. Maybe the way it seared her blood was a little addicting. Maybe it was Chris himself. How, even when inflicting this pain, was there no where else she would rather look than wherever he was standing.

 

Some of the guests had either left or retired to their rooms. Chris's father came up to his son and Charlotte. "It is time for you both to say good night."

They both stared at him then looked at each other. Taking her hand, Chris led her up the main staircase, stopping midway and turning to the remaining guests that had followed them into the grand hall.

"Friends." Christopher began, "Family. All of you who have honored us by joining me and my bride in celebrating our wedding. We bid you good night. And I hope that we see you all at breakfast so we can continue the festivities." They each waved politely and Chris tried not to react when he saw Viola, looking bereft, staring up at them from the kitchen corridor.

 

They entered his bedchamber and Charlotte was at a bit of a loss. His room was much bigger than hers but not ostentatious. She looked around and eventually her eyes landed on the bed.

"You can have the side that's closest to the fire, if you like." He offered. "I know it gets drafty in here with all these windows." He shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat, laying them over the chair by his desk. She looked at him and for a moment he was unsure what she was expecting then gestured behind her. "My apologies, I thought you saw. I set up a screen for you to undress behind. One of your ladies set your nightgown behind it."

"Of course, my lord."

She stepped behind it and slipped off her shoes. She rolled her stockings down her legs and reached for the laces of her dress. "Drat." she whispered.

"Everything all right?" He called to her.

"Yes. I just can't undo all these laces." she sighed. She stepped back into his view. "Could you help?" When she looked up at him on the last word she inhaled sharply. He hadn't put his nightshirt on yet and it was the first time she had seen him naked from the waist up. "I'm sorry!" She immediately looked at the floor, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

"It's ok." His deep voice seemed even lower now as he stepped closer. He moved behind her and she could feel his fingers tugging on the strings of her dress. "Wow... they really hemmed you in here tight. How could you even breathe in this?" He seemed more astonished than mocking.

"Well, my mother would always say, it's better to look good than feel good." She grinned then realized her mistake. "I don't mean I'm not happy. I just mean..it's better that everyone thinks you're wonderful because the outside is pretty. Oh.. that's not what I mean either.. It's just..." she stopped when she felt his hands fall to her waist.

He chuckled softly. "It's all right. I know you mean." His hands dropped back by his side. "And I think that is as loose as I can get it before the whole thing falls to the floor."

She turned around carefully, one arm over her chest to keep her dress in place. "Thank you." She moved back behind the screen and slid the heavy dress off her shoulders, draping it over one of the wooden panels. She reached for the nightgown that had carefully been set aside for her. It was exquisite with its intricate cap sleeves and bodice adorned with lace from Bruges. Unlike her dress, it was light as a feather. She pulled it over her head and it glided down her frame, covering her from neck to ankle, yet feeling like nothing was there at all.

When she re-emerged from behind the screen he was already in bed, sheets and blankets draped over his waist. He had put his night clothes on but the collar was open. He had been reading but lifted his eyes when he saw her. He flushed as the candlelight revealed just how diaphanous her nightgown was, the flimsy material leaving almost nothing to his imagination. She noted his reaction and thought she had done something wrong.

"Is this ok? I had it made special for tonight. I didn't even try it on before now because I thought that would be bad luck. I'm not sure it fits me all that well but I just sent my measurements to my favorite seamstress in London. I tried to find some one here to make it but when I asked for Belgian lace, no one seemed to know what I meant. I really wanted you to like it. I mean it really is a special occasion."

"It's fine." He managed to mumble out. "I mean, it's very pretty. Looks... expensive." He realized he had been staring, not at her face, and he pretended to be engrossed in his book once more.

She slid under the covers beside him and he clapped his book shut and blew out the candle on his night stand.

"Christopher..." she said softly.

"Good night." He placed one arm above his head and shut his eyes.

She laid there quietly for some time debating on if she should just try to sleep or not. She hazarded a glance over at him. His eyes closed, his long, dark eyelashes resting on his cheek. His nose was perfectly straight and his lips were full and pink. He had shaved for the wedding that morning but already a shadow of scruff appeared on his skin. She wondered what that would feel like pressed against her own flesh. Her eyes moved down his chest, rising and falling with his breath, thick hair barely obfuscating the muscles beneath. She tentatively reached out her hand and let her fingers lightly thread through the strands covering his pectorals.

His eyes flew open and he turned his head toward her. She instinctively snatched her hand away as his eyes burned at her.

"My lord..." her voice trembled.

"What are you doing?" His whisper hissed at her.

"Well... I just thought... I am your wife now." She couldn't hide the hurt in her voice. "Now and forever..."

"Forever." The word vacillated between statement and question and his voice seemed to soften as he realized how harsh he had been.

She decided to try a different tactic, reaching up for the little bow at the neckline of her intricate chemise. She pulled it loose and began to slide the sleeves down her shoulders. "Yes, my lord."

He watched the thin material skim down her flesh before his gaze traveled back up to her own. "Then we will have plenty of time for those... obligations later."

"But Christopher..." her voice was light, "it is our wedding night."

"Indeed and perhaps that would mean something if we were actually in love with each other but alas, we are not. I know that eventually we must engage in matrimonial duties but for now understand that you are only in this room tonight because the guests outside this door expect it. No amount of girlish whispers or see-through pajamas is going to change that. Good night, Charlotte."

He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again. She suddenly felt very exposed and very foolish.

She rolled onto her side, away from him, and stared at the hearth. As the flames died down and the room grew black, she heard his breathing grow slow and even. The fire popped, sending sparks up the chimney and the room was quickly becoming draped in darkness. Then, with heavy eyelids and a weary heart, she fell asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Charlotte slowly opened her eyes. She could hear some rustling on the opposite side of the room and turned toward it. It took her a moment to remember exactly where she was but when the scene before her finally came into focus, she could see Christopher pulling on his trousers and yanking his shirt over his head. A quick glance out the window informed her that it was only dawn, the sky still clinging to purplish early morning hues.

"Good morning my lord." Her voice was husky with sleep.

He gave her a cursory look. "Morning." He shrugged on his coat and tugged his boots over his calves. "I'm going to check on... breakfast."

Her expression became impassive. "Of course."

He walked into the kitchens and saw a very flustered looking Jeanette flitting between the ovens and the long table, littered with knives and cutting boards, all the while calling out instructions to the dozen or so equally harried looking staff. She looked up at him, forehead dampened with sweat and hair coming loose around her face and tried to calm herself.

"Sorry my lord. Don't mean to be barking orders so early in the morning. Just doin' all this by myself at the moment. And it's such a big day. Lots of guests still here."

Chris's face grew grim. "Where is Viola?"

"No idea, sir. Haven't seen her all morning. Her bed was empty when I woke up. Figured she had celebrated too much last night and ended up in a room that wasn't hers."

His nostrils flared and he spun around, rushing for the barn. He almost ran right over his new wife, who had come down to oversee the menu. "Christopher?"

"Not now." He kept sprinting down the corridor.

"My darling husband." She projected her voice in a way that echoed off the stone walls. He turned to her. "There are over 200 people here who will be wanting to chat with the Lord of the Manor over their toast and bacon." His brows knitted in consternation. She frowned before sighing in resignation. "I'll tell them you've been called to the stables." Her voice was softer now as she moved closer and stood beside him. Her face changed from seriousness to concern. "Go find her."

 

The horses' hooves crunched loudly on the fresh snow. Christopher was wasting no time trying to locate Viola. He had tried the stables, tried the conservatory, even checked the small mausoleum and she was no where to be found. He finally spotted a trail of footprints that led into the deep forest. He kicked his horse, urging him to go faster, oblivious to the snow that was swirling around them. It was freezing his nose, making his lashes heavy with moisture, and turning the tips of his ears pink.

"Viola!" He called into the trees. The sound instantly fell flat. The cold seemed to swallow up any noise and there was an uneasy silence that surrounded him. "Viola!" he shouted again. The woods did not answer.

He finally spotted a dot of green moving in the distance and he hastened to meet it. It was her, trudging through the growing storm, a small bag strapped to her back.

"Viola!" He quickly dismounted and ran to her. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "North." Her voice was small and her lips cracked. It appeared she had been out in the elements for a very long time.

"What? Come on Vi. You can't leave."

"I can't stay, Christopher. I can't stay here and watch you play house with someone else. I can't pretend I don't see her walking into your bedroom with you."

"Viola... nothing happened last night."

"But it will. I thought maybe I could stay and just ignore everything but I can't. Watching you both. Holding hands, the way you look at each other. You kissing her cheek every time someone clinked their glass. The way you held her when you danced."

"That was just a show. All this wedding pomp is just while the guests are here. They will all be gone soon. Charlotte wants this no more than I do."

"Are you sure about that?"

Chris hesitated as he thought about last night. "Yes. I promise. In a few days, things will go back to the way they were."

"No they won't. They won't be the same. I know you. You'll want to do the right thing. The proper thing. You'll want to do what everyone expects you to do. I'll just become your secret. Waiting for her to go to bed. Waiting for everyone else to be asleep. Sneaking around while you publicly profess your love for her. And then what? Am I supposed to grow old and grey in the kitchens while I watch her bear your children? I'm sorry Chris. That is not the life I want."

"Viola, please. Please don't go love." He blinked as the snowfall intensified. The flurries fell on her dark eyebrows and dotted her cheeks. "Please, the storm is getting worse. You won't make it out here alone." Her eyelids fluttered against the worsening precipitation. "Please don't leave me. I need you. I love you." He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. He caressed her cheek and swiped away the snow from her lips with his thumb.

She reached up and curled her small fingers around his. "But for how long?" she asked, beginning to shiver.

"For the rest of my life." He kissed her forehead. "You know that, my darling. Nothing. Nothing can change that." The wind whipped through the trees and his skin began to sting. "Please come home." He kissed her lips softly as the wind howled and the storm was fast becoming a blizzard. He could feel her warm in his embrace and he scooped her up in his arms. He lifted her onto his horse and wrapped his cloak around both of them, holding her waist tight against him. His other hand gripped the reins tight and he spurred his horse towards home.

He carried her to the kitchen and sat her by the large fireplace. He handed her large glass of strong, red wine and knelt beside her. "I will be back soon."

He made his way down the hall into the dining room. Everyone was in the midst of eating, the low hum of conversation and cutlery all of a sudden disturbed when the figure of Lord Evans appeared at the door. He was wet from the winter storm and his dark cloak was covered in snow. No one could help but look at him, already abuzz over why he wasn't there.

"My brave husband!" Charlotte called out, making sure everyone could hear. "Did you rescue the mare that had broken free?"

He stared at her for a short time before answering. "I did. She is safe and warm now. Back home."

"Good news." She beamed and raised her glass. "Now please join us, as I'm sure you are famished after such an adventure."

He sat beside her at the large table and stabbed at a sausage without saying anything. As soon as everyone moved on to their meal again, she whispered to him. "Is she all right?" Her face showed genuine concern.

He nodded but his face showed no joy. "For the time being."

William Evans regarded the pair with concern. They should be glowing after their first night of wedded bliss and his son looked downright pained to be by her side. He wiped at his mouth and stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen. If everyone has had enough of their eggs and plum cakes, I would love for you to join me in the parlor where I have hired two musicians, talented on the harp and flute, as a tribute to our new, Irish part of the family." He looked at Charlotte who gave him a very gracious smile.

"How very thoughtful of you." Sebastian offered. He could sense something wrong with his sister and he was hoping to pull the focus away from her. "Thank you my lord."

The older Evans looked at him, a bit taken aback. "Yes... quite welcome. Perhaps you could join me in leading our lovely visitors to the entertainment."

"It would be an honor." Sebastian finished his drink and joined Chris's father. As he chatted convivially with those that seemed to hang on his every word, he couldn't help but to steal a look back at Charlotte. She took no notice of him. She was staring at the glass in front of her as Chris tore off a hunk of brown bread and slathered it with butter. For all the jubilant chatter that swarmed around him, the newlyweds were practically morose. He wanted to run up to her and apologize. He knew, seeing them now, that he had been terribly short-sighted. He thought giving her everything he wanted would make her happy. It made him sorrowful and angry.

And jealous. His gaze shifted to the man beside her. How could anyone be miserable at spending a lifetime with him?

"They're starting." Aaron's voice jolted him from his reverie. Sebastian turned to Chris's valet. "Lord Evans requested you sit beside him."

"How delightful." Sebastian smiled at him and took one final look at Charlotte before joining the others.

END OF PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Don't be alarmed at the phrase above. It only means that the story after this chapter will be set a few years into the future. To avoid confusion over the timeline, I felt it best to split the book up into two parts. Thank you, as always, for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

Chelmsford, England

1814

"Sir? I thought you said you would be going out this evening."

"Aye, I did. But that damn Stanley is a ninny and cancelled on me. Sent his valet and his warmest regards but the damned idiot has some sort of illness that is preventing him from joining me for a night at the tavern."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything else you might need this evening?"

"No, no. Thank you. Guess I'll just hole up here with a bit of gin and a good book, unless... I don't suppose you'd want to come out with me?"

"I shouldn't think so, sir."

"Oh come on... just the local inn. Nothing extraordinary."

Anthony shook his head. "Not one for going out, I'm afraid."

"Oh I certainly know that. Two years you've been here and you don't leave unless it's for an errand I've sent you on."

"No reason to leave, sir. Everything I need is here."

"Yes, but there is a bit of amusement that seems to be lacking in your life. Why not indulge in some socialization outside this old house."

"Listening to drunken men yell at each other holds no interest for me." Anthony smiled.

"Well, we can do our best to steer clear of them then. Besides, it's not like a roaring establishment in the city. It's usually pretty friendly. Nice folk. You might even meet a girl." Anthony looked down. "No need to look so shy. You're a handsome lad. And young. No reason for you to live like a monk." Mr. Gregg patted him on the shoulder. "Can't spend all your time painting, my boy."

"But I like painting, sir. I think I'm finally getting good at it. You know I only sketched with pencils before you showed me your studio."

"Yes. I'm just glad someone is using it now. Had to give up on that when my hands started cramping up like they do." He unknowingly stretched his fingers out when he mentioned it. "But drinking helps, so what say you we head into town?" His butler looked at him, unsure. He had been trying to be as invisible as possible since moving here. "Come on, Anthony. I pay you shit. Let me treat you to a few glasses of whatever you like."

"Yes sir." He finally relented and went to gather their coats.

Anthony swirled the liquor in his glass. His employer had ducked into another room to join a card game and Anthony was left at small table by himself. He watched the other patrons, thinking his seat in a darkened corner made him almost invisible. Someone noticed him though, and a woman came over to him, gliding her hands over his shoulders. He looked up at her and noticed she was swaying on her feet a little. Her face was pretty but when she spoke, her words were slurred.

"You all alone handsome?"

He frowned and looked at the door. "Not really. My companion for the night is off playing cards in the back. I'm not much good at gambling so I stayed here."

"Mmm..." she moved in front of him and sank down on his lap. "Well... I can keep you company."

Anthony assessed her outfit and demeanor. "I don't have any money, miss."

She laughed softly. "Oh, I didn't think you did. I'm not interested in your money, darling." Her hand slid down his chest and landed in his lap. She squeezed his thigh and her other arm curled around his neck. She pulled herself closer to him, pressing her chest against his. She writhed her hips against him and bit her bottom lip. "I think your friend is going to be a while..." She kissed the side of his neck and gently tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. "You wanna sit here staring at the wall or you wanna pass the time more pleasantly?" She took his hands and placed them on the cleavage that was spilling out of her corset. "I have a room upstairs."

"No thank you." He looked away and dropped his hands back to his side, trying to ignore the familiar ache.

"Aww..." she purred against his throat, her breath warm on his skin. His chest starting to rise and fall. "How long has it been since you've been with a woman?"

He shut his eyes. "Years..." he whispered, not meaning to say it out loud.

"Oh love... that is way too long..." She kissed his cheek then his mouth. He resisted at first before her ministrations overwhelmed him. He began fervently kissing her back, lifting her off his lap and letting her lead him upstairs. Her room smelled of tobacco smoke and the cheap cologne of men who had been there before him.

In a whiskey-fueled swirl of grunts and messy kisses, she stripped down quickly. He fell with her onto her small bed. She made short work of his belt and the laces of his trousers before he knelt between her legs. 

Castle Combe Manor House

It was a lonely night, the air was crisp and cold and the numerous blankets on her bed did nothing to stave off the chill. She made the decision to slip out of bed and shrugged on her dressing gown. She walked softly to the room next to hers and let herself into Chris's bed chambers. She knew he wouldn't provide her with affection but sometimes just laying next to him was comforting. Listening to his deep breaths could lull her to sleep and he certainly would have warmed the sheets. But when she walked across the carpet she saw his bed was empty. Her shoulders sank but she crawled under the covers anyway. She told herself he may be back soon, but deep down she knew that wasn't true. 

He didn't walk in until the early morning. He smelled like Viola's perfume. He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his boots.

"Is this all there is to us now?" Her voice sounded fragile in the dark. "Me pretending to be asleep when you crawl back into bed in the morning?"

 

"You want me to lie and tell you I love you?" He said without turning around.

She sat up and directed her statement to the shadow of his back. "Love me? You barely look at me."

"I only lay with you in the hopes of creating a child. A child you seem incapable of producing." He said accusingly.

She scrambled off the mattress and moved in front of him. "You want a child when you only make love to me what? Four times a year?"

"Well perhaps if you acted like a more willing participant."

"You want me to be more willing? You won't even kiss me!"

"I don't come to your bed for kisses. I'm sure there are plenty of other men willing to kiss you if that's so important to you."

"You sent away the only man I've ever wanted to kiss! While your mistress gets to live under our roof."

"This was her house long before you got here."

She looked at him, her vision adjusting to the faint glow of the fireplace and finally seeing him. He saw her too, the big blue eyes that stared at him flooding with tears.

"I won't kiss you." Chris started out angry before his tone softened. "I can't."

"Of course." Her voice was bitter. "Because the ever-perfect Lord Evans would never dream of kissing anyone other than his dear Viola, even when that other person is his wife. His wife who he vowed to honor and respect for the rest of his life and yet can't be bothered to show her even the slightest bit of affection despite the fact that she gave up everything to save his family's legacy while he surrendered nothing!"

He regarded her sadly and heaved a big sigh. It was silent in the room for quite some time. Finally, Chris spoke. "Charlotte? Can I tell you something? You must promise not to tell anyone else. No one."

"Of course." She said softly.

He stood up and took her hand in his. "I'm scared to kiss you. What if I like it? My whole life, it's always been her. I've known forever that I've been in love with Viola. What happens if that's not true anymore? If I can love someone else then... what else isn't true?"

She squeezed his hand as a tear fell. "Oh Christopher. Don't you understand? You don't have to be scared of that. You could kiss the most beautiful girls in the world and it may feel nice. You may indeed like it, but if you love Viola there will be a special feeling that only she can give you. It doesn't matter if she is your first, second, or tenth lover. As long as she is your last."

 

Christopher seemed to think about that for a while. "I suppose you're right."

Charlotte stepped closer to him. Smiling warmly, she grazed her fingertips through his beard. "Let me show you."

He looked reticent but didn't stop her when she took his face in her hands, then combed her fingers through his hair. Her lips hovered inches from his and she lowered her lashes as she gazed at his mouth. Gently, she pressed her lips against his, moving them ever so slightly. Instinctively, she pressed against him as her arms encircled his neck. She couldn't deny the pulse that coursed through her body and he lifted his arms to embrace her before catching himself. He stepped back abruptly and they looked at each other, unsure of what to say. She recovered first and grinned. "See?" She shrugged, her voice wavering only a little. "Nothing."

"Yeah..." he nodded.

She swallowed hard and found herself unable to make eye contact. She made her way back to her side of the room. "Is it all right if I go back to bed? I'm sorry, it's just that arguing always makes me tired."

"Sure." He still hadn't moved. He watched her crawl into his bed and cradle one of his pillows as she closed her eyes. He eventually joined her, though he wasn't tired at all. He turned to his wife, watching her peaceful face as she slumbered. She looked so different. Awake, she always had an air of sadness, weariness about her. Now she seemed calm. It made her prettier. Or maybe it was him that was different. He wasn't sure if she had also felt the rush of energy when their lips met but he wagered that she had. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy of his bed.

"Damn."


	18. Chapter 18

Charlotte sat on the grass with her back against one of the many trees, reading. She was so engrossed she almost didn't notice when her horse, a gentle palomino, had almost wandered into the dense woods. "Luther! Come back here!" The horse meandered back to her side and she offered him an apple in gratitude. "I will tie you to a tree if you try that again, mister." He shook his mane in response and began to nibble the grass not too far from her. Charlotte looked out over the rolling hills and the manor house in the distance. She felt better out here. More free. No one wanted her at the house anyway. Unless they had company, of course, and she was required to play the doting wife of Lord Evans. She was always stuck talking to the other women who would smile at her knowingly and titter. They all said the same thing, looking at Christopher from afar. 'No need to pretend to have a headache at night with him as your husband, I bet.' 'No,' Charlotte would always answer, pretending to be amused every time she heard it, 'Certainly no need for me to do that.' 'Lucky girl... wish I was in your shoes.' Charlotte would smile politely. If only they knew.

But out here, she didn't have to play such games. Out here she was alone. And out here it was so different than home. She didn't feel so haunted out here where things were new. So much of her distractions indoors were reminiscent of her old life. She still played piano occasionally but never for very long. It wasn't the same without Anthony nearby, humming the melody softly or joining in when he remembered the words. She looked east where the sky was a few shades darker and she wondered if he thought of her anymore, the way she thought of him. Most likely not, she scolded herself. He probably already found someone else. As it should be, she thought. She wanted him to be happy. But... in truth... the thought of another woman kissing him, knowing him... she sighed sadly.

She tried to read again and lose herself in the world of dragons and brave knights. She flipped the pages until she noticed the sun sinking low and she could hear the first of the crickets beginning their song. She slid the green ribbon she was using as a bookmark between the pages and closed it carefully. Tucking it into her mount's saddle bag, she swung onto his back and goaded him onto the trail home.

Tucking it into her mount's saddle bag, she swung onto his back and goaded him onto the trail home  
Safely back near the barn, she dismounted and pet his long, soft snout. "I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" She grabbed her book and handed the reins over to one of the stable boys who led him inside.

Charlotte was halfway up the stairs in the great hall, eager to freshen up before dinner, when she heard Chris's voice call to her.

"Charlotte?"

She half-turned, not paying him much attention, she knew it was just his usual question anyway. "I'll have the claret tonight. Unless we're having fish for dinner, then I'd prefer Elder wine." She started ascending the stairs again.

"It's not that, Charlotte." His tone of voice made her turn around. He was holding a letter. He looked quite somber and she felt her chest tighten. "It's your father." Charlotte gathered her skirts and quickly ran to him. He offered her the missive, though he told her what it said. "It seems he is very sick." She read the letter herself and looked at him. "Tis a grave prognosis, my lady. I am sorry."

"I have to go to him." She said, her voice hollow as an echo.

"Yes. You gather your things; I will have Aaron get the carriage ready for you." He reached out and squeezed her hand.

She nodded and hurried to her room.

 

Charlotte could hardly wait for the carriage to stop before she leaped out of it and up the stairs of the Mayfair brownstone. She burst through the front door, almost tumbling into her father's valet when she saw Sebastian. He was sitting on the staircase looking grim and forlorn and she rushed over to him.

"How is he?" She asked, gripping her brother's hands.

The corners of her brother's mouth turned downwards. "He doesn't have a lot of time." She looked up at the stairs to the second floor where her father's room was. "But you can say good bye."

 

Chelmsford

"Anthony! Could you help me with my bags?"

"Of course, Mr. Gregg."

Anthony's employer sighed. "You know I have told you countless times there is no need for such formality. It is just the two of us here. You may call me Clark."

"Sorry sir."

At first the older man frowned, then allowed the chuckle to erupt from his mouth. He shook his head. "I suppose old habits die hard."

"Yes si- Clark."

"Mmmhmm... and I suppose those old habits are why you decided not to join me on my trip to London tonight." Anthony didn't answer. "I would have thought a young man like yourself would enjoy a few days in the big city. I know it's only for a funeral but still... Certainly more exciting than here."

"Too exciting." Anthony said softly.

"Aye..." he studied the lad. "I suppose it could be. Flynn did mention that you got into a bit of trouble there." Anthony looked at him with an uneasy expression. "Oh don't look so worried. I thought nothing of it. Don't think there's a man alive who's been to London who can say he hasn't gotten into a bit of trouble there." He smiled warmly and Anthony gave him a small smirk. "Sure you won't come with me then?"

"I'm sure, Mr...Clark."

"Suit yourself." He opened the front door as Anthony followed him with the luggage, strapping it tightly to the roof of the small carriage. "Enjoy having the whole place to yourself. Throw a wild party or something." Anthony just shook his head and laughed. "Maybe invite a girl over or something. What about that girl that was hanging all over you at the tavern a few weeks ago?"

"I didn't ask her name."

"Ha! I bet you didn't. No time for proper introductions, eh? Well, I'm sure if it pleases you, you could always pay her a visit. She would assuredly be there; never been to the inn and not seen her chatting up whatever fresh meat walks in." He saw he was making Anthony uncomfortable. He placed one hand gently on the other man's cheek and spoke softer. "You could at least try to have fun... and I know, she may not be the prettiest girl... certainly not as pretty as those girls in your paintings but... you know... you could certainly do worse."

"So I've been told."

At first Mr. Gregg looked shocked at this until he realized Anthony was attempting to be funny. He snorted a laugh and closed the door to his transport, signaling to his footman he was ready to leave. "Take good care of things while I'm gone, Anthony. Should only be a few days." He nodded to his driver who cracked the whip over the horses, getting the carriage in motion with a jolt as Anthony waved good bye.


	19. Chapter 19

Christopher's room was filled with soft moans and desperate cries. Satiated sighs and whispers for more. Fingers gripped at sheets, at hair, at skin. A gasping, glistening Lord Evans rolled over on top of Viola, kissing her everywhere.

"Why don't I tell my father I am not feeling well and we can sneak some dinner up here tonight?" Viola smiled at the idea. Chris's hand slid between her legs again and his long fingers teased the tender skin of her inner thigh. "I would love to feed you delicious bits of sweetbread and meats... licking plum jelly off your perfect breasts." He dipped his head below her collarbone and kissed down her chest.

Her fingers sunk into his thick, blonde hair and her eyes fluttered closed. "That sounds heavenly my love... but won't Charlotte miss you?" She said it almost sarcastically.

Chris moaned softly as he got to the soft skin of her stomach. "Pffft.... she's not even here."

Viola's eyes opened again and she looked down at him. "Where is she?"

"She went back to London for a few days. Funeral."

"For who?"

"Her father."

Viola sat up straight, pushing his head away and locking her knees together. "And you didn't go with her?"

Chris looked annoyed at the question. "She didn't ask me to."

"She is your wife!" Viola regarded him incredulously.

"Oh come now..." Chris combed his fingers through her dark tresses, trying to diffuse her emotions. "Our relationship is different. And you know her. She's very independent. I'm sure she doesn't want me there."

"But she'll be all alone."

"Her brother will be there."

"Sebastian is not someone I would seek out for solace!"

Now it was Chris's turn to sit up. He was quite indignant. "What are you getting so upset for? Why do you care? Now you and I can do as we like without worrying about her fragile feelings."

"That's a very cold thing to say, my lord." Viola shook her head. "She just lost her father. I think we very much should be worrying about her feelings."

Christopher stood up and threw on his trousers. "You want me to go? Is that it? You have something you'd rather be doing than spending time with me?"

"No." Her voice was very small. "Of course not."

He grabbed his shirt and stormed towards the door. "Then if I were you, I wouldn't worry about my wife and I."

 

London, Mayfair District

Charlotte and Sebastian sat in the parlour of their father's townhouse. It was the room that had been designated to display the body and receive mourners and was thusly shrouded with black drapery over every window and mirror. It made the whole thing even drearier than it already was and despite the myriad of candles everywhere, the shadows seemed to seep from every corner, threatening to suffocate them. When the last visitor left, the siblings both sighed in relief. Sebastian looked over at her with a resigned smile.

"I suppose this makes us orphans now."

Charlotte shook her head, regarding him warmly. "I think we're a bit old to be considered orphans."

"But we are now without parents. The very definition of orphans. I think we should embrace our new identity. Walk the streets, begging for food or a few coins. Huddle under bridges together to rest at night, distract and charm tourists while we pick their pockets. The charming bit will be my forte, of course."

Charlotte found herself chuckling softly despite the sadness of the day. "Of course." she conceded. She tilted her head as a thought occurred to her. "You miss me."

Sebastian sighed. "Another unforeseen consequence of my actions." He sank onto an overstuffed chair. "Idiot..." he mumbled under his breath.

"It wasn't just you ..." she tried to console him.

"You know, I did honestly think being with Christopher would make you happy."

"I was happy."

"Sneaking around? No. I know you, dear sister. Better than anyone. You are a shout-your-love-from-the-rooftops kind of girl." He saw her smile knowingly and he continued. "I knew that wouldn't be possible with Anthony."

Her smile faded and she bit her tongue. This wasn't the right time.

"Apologies for my lateness." Mr. Gregg ashamedly sidled into the room. "I came as soon as I head about your father."

"No apologies needed, sir." Sebastian stood up to greet the older man. "The last guest left mere minutes ago. And you are as close as family. You are welcome in this house at any time of the day or night."

"Well, I see you have already inherited your father's manners." Gregg couldn't help but smirk. "Somewhat miraculously."

Sebastian caught the slight and grinned. "I do like to keep people guessing."

Charlotte welcomed him with a tender hug and warm smile. "It is good to see you again, Mr. Gregg." He nodded and kissed each one of her cheeks. "Will you be attending the funeral tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course."

"And the burial service?"

"Indeed, my lady. Whenever that is."

"Saturday. I hope the weather isn't awful. There's nothing sadder than a funeral party standing in the rain."

Gregg nodded empathetically. "Have you decided on the cemetery?"

"St. James." Sebastian offered. Charlotte frowned and returned to her seat. "My sister is not happy with that arrangement." He looked to her, "She had been hoping he would be laid to rest beside our mother and the rest of our family back in Wexford."

"It is criminal to not have him buried next to mum." She said softly.

"So I tried to explain to Charlotte the logistics of transporting a body over the Irish Sea were practically insurmountable."

"He'll spend an eternity next to strangers!"

Sebastian frowned. He knelt in front of Charlotte and took her hands in his own. "It's just a corpse, love." He gestured his head towards the coffin in the center of the room. "I've already told you, father is long gone. I bet he's already back with mum up in heaven and I wager he thinks you're needlessly getting worked up over what's nothing more than an old suit." She looked at him and smiled slightly. "But I'm sure they're both watching us right now, very proud that you care so much."

She nodded, grateful for his words. "I know I'm being overly sentimental."

Sebastian kissed her fingers. "Well... I think that's all right. It was one of Father's favorite things about you."

"Hmm..." Gregg thought for a moment, not wanting to intrude on this intimate moment. "You know your father always loved coming out to the country." They both looked over at him. "Charlotte is right. Your father's remains shouldn't have to spend eternity with strangers for neighbors. Especially here in this hollow city. He'd be surrounded by noise and foul smells." He cleared his throat. "The grounds of my estate include a small family burial plot. Nothing ostentatious, mind you. But a quiet, peaceful place in the country. Can't think of a better place to be laid to eternal rest. When the day comes, I will be there. My long passed wife and parents are there. He will at least be among friends."

Sebastian and Charlotte looked at each other. 

"You know Chelmsford is not more than a day's journey from here. With the proper planning it could still happen on Saturday." Sebastian and Charlotte looked like they didn't know what to say. "Oh please say yes. Your father was a good friend to me. Let me give him this gift."

After a moment of silence Charlotte was the first to speak. "That would please me very much, sir. And I think Father would like it to. Ultimately, it is up to Sebastian though."

Her brother nodded. "It's an incredible idea. Yes. That is wonderfully generous and thoughtful of you, my lord."

Gregg smiled. "Good then. I'll send word first thing in the morning to the local stone cutters and groundsmen to have things ready by Saturday. I shall see you both tomorrow."

Charlotte gave him an emotional embrace when she said farewell. "Thank you so much, my lord." He could see her eyes were wet with gratitude. "Good night."


	20. Chapter 20

The funeral party made it to Chelmsford faster than they had anticipated. It still felt like a long journey, however, as no one was in much of a mood for chatter. The clip clop of the funeral horses' hooves from time to time seemed to lure Mr. Gregg almost to sleep. Sebastian and Charlotte looked out their respective windows, watching the scenery grow less and less familiar. Every once in a while Sebastian would look over at his sister, wondering what she was thinking. For once, he couldn't sense her emotions.

As they neared Gregg's estate, their host's demeanor changed. He seemed more ebullient and eager to welcome them to his home.

"Look at that." He smiled. "We have arrived before sunset. Wonderful. This will give me some time to show you around before dinner. Charlotte, I don't think you've been here since you were a little lady. And Sebastian, I don't think you've been back since that hunting trip with your father a few years ago."

The younger man nodded. "It has definitely been way too long, sir."

As the carriages pulled up to the front door, a few members of the household staff swarmed out and began carrying their bags to the guest rooms. "Hope you find the accommodations to your liking." Gregg smiled at them, leading them into the entryway.

"Your home is just as beautiful as I remembered." Sebastian offered.

"It's lovely." Charlotte smiled warmly at him.

Gregg ushered them into the parlour and poured each of them a glass of soothing, dark red wine. "To warm the bones after a day of travel." He raised his goblet. "Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to see to tonight's menu. I hope we are well stocked. Wasn't planning on hosting a gathering, you know."

"I'm sure it will be fine." Charlotte said, taking a sip.

Gregg left and she sauntered over to one of the windows. "It's pretty out here. Different from the Cotswolds. Less hills and valleys."

"You prefer home?" Sebastian asked.

"Home?" She looked at him, genuinely unsure of where he meant.

He looked down and luckily before he could say anything else, Gregg re-entered the room. "Terribly sorry to leave you. But it does look like there will be plenty to eat for at least a day or two." He took a long swig of his wine. "Now let me show you the rest of the house." He took Charlotte's hand and led her down the hall.

 

Her eyes lit up when they stepped into the last room on the ground floor. "And this, as you can see, is the library- which I'm sure you will appreciate, my lady. If I remember correctly you were quite the avid reader when you were younger."

"I still am, sir."

"Excellent, well feel free to peruse the stacks while you're here."

She looked around, taking note of the titles she hadn't already devoured, trying to decide which one to read first. She saw one of the paintings on the wall and felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"My lord?" She tried to hide how flustered she was.

Gregg looked over her. "Yes, love?"

"This is incredible." She said, gesturing to the artwork.

"Yes, isn't it? Would you believe it was done by my very own butler?" She looked surprised but not for the reasons he suspected. "I would catch him, early in the mornings, trying to find the perfect light before everyone else woke up, carting around those big folders of sketch paper and a cumbersome box of pencils. I told him there was no reason to be so clandestine about his creative side. I showed him my small studio upstairs with all my long dried-up oil colors. The room up there is tiny but there are windows on three sides so there is always plenty of light. I told him he was welcome up there anytime as I haven't been artistically inspired in over a decade."

"It wasn't long after that that I noticed him spending nearly all his free time up there and I asked him to show me what he was always so diligently working on. At first he was reticent, but after a bit of cajoling, he relented and I was absolutely aghast. He had told me he had never painted before and yet, in only a couple of months, and with no formal training, was creating these stunning portraits and landscapes. Well, I told him he had a remarkable talent and shouldn't be wasting his time waiting on a grouchy old fool but he just brushed me off."

"Well he might not think they are any good but I have everything framed and get positively giddy whenever he presents me with a new work." He looked admiringly at one of the paintings that lined the room then looked back at Charlotte. "You know I never noticed before but the girls in these paintings look a little like you." She blushed slightly, shaking her head in denial. Gregg looked like he was piecing something together. "He did work for your father while you lived there, yes?"

"He did, yes. And he did love to sketch while he was there."

"I remember." Sebastian said. "He was always drawing something while you abused that poor piano."

Gregg couldn't contain his grin as figured it all out. "So you were acquainted with him?"

"Indeed we were." She remarked. Sebastian painfully held his tongue.

"Oh, I would wager he had a bit of an unrequited crush on the lady of the house." Gregg chuckled, winking at her. "Do you think maybe he fancied you a bit? You could be the inspiration for a talented young man." His eyes danced. Sebastian bit down hard on the inside of his cheeks.

"Oh... I don't know about that." She said said softly.

"My lord. Dinner will be ready in ten min-" The butler stopped short when he saw her. "Charlotte."

 

She turned towards that voice and for a moment couldn't breathe.

 

"Anthony." Her voice croaked out as her face grew hot and everything else in the room blurred and faded away.

 

At first Gregg wondered at how they addressed each other so familiarly. Sebastian's eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Gregg looked at Anthony then Charlotte and back again. He tried to figure out their expressions when he finally breathed out an "Oohhhh..." Now he understood. Those paintings didn't look like Charlotte, they were Charlotte.

"Ah....Sebastian," he stammered out, "Would you care to see the conservatory?"

Sebastian quickly eyed his sister. "Yes. Indeed I would. Fantastic idea."

 

As they left, Charlotte felt herself unable to move. She stared at Anthony, the instant longing in her heart paralyzing her.

Anthony looked down the hall to make sure they were alone and then walked toward her. "Charlotte..." his voice was almost a whisper now.

"I never thought I would see you again." She rushed over to him.

He nodded and she looked down, when she looked back up her eyes were brimming with tears. "I've missed you so much."

He gave her a half-smile and gathered her into his arms. She nearly collapsed in his embrace. "I've missed you too." He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"It's been a long time."

"Two years."

"Yes..." she wiped at her eyes and looked at him, trying to smile. "You have a mustache now?" He absentmindedly touched his fingers to the hair above his lip. She grinned. "I like it. It suits you." She delicately ran one of her fingers over his cheek. "And I see you're a painter now?"

He shrugged. "I still earn my living by taking orders." When the light threatened to vanish from her face he softened his tone. "But yes, I have learned how to paint."

"Quite well, I would say."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, I am and so is Mr. Gregg. He thinks your work is exquisite." Suddenly her face lit up anew. "You are good enough to display these in a gallery, you know. We could have you in one of the finest spots in London."

"I don't think-"

"It will be perfect! Sebastian and I still have many connections with the artsy folk about town. And Mr. Gregg seems like a big champion of yours. I'm sure he would give you some time off to mount an amazing show." She was talking faster and excitedly, envisioning him being the toast of London's creative society. He wanted so desperately to believe her. "And I could help you! We could work on everything together. It's not like Chris would miss me at all."

"I can't Charlotte."

"Oh stop always being so modest. You're wonderful and it's not just me saying it."

"I can't go to London. I'm sorry." He shook his head and took a step back from her. "I won't ever go back there." She looked at him crestfallen. "I'm sorry. But after the incident with Pearce and his gang I agreed to leave and never come back. Yes, to protect you, but also to protect myself. Men like him don't let things go so easily. They knew about me and you and your father, brother, and Christopher were now caught up in it. If Pearce and his cronies decided to come looking for me at your father's, there would have to be no trace of me. Hard to hunt a man that doesn't exist. It was easy to disappear when most people don't acknowledge me in the first place. Who would even remember me or miss me? And if Pearce or one of his ilk ever tried to talk, slander you or your family, they would be laughed at."

"But that was years ago." She persisted. "Certainly they have moved on to some other perceived threat."

"Perhaps. Perhaps it is better that we all move on."

"Anthony?" She looked at him, surely he didn't mean...

"We weren't supposed to see each other again."

"And yet, here we are. Fate has graced us with the chance to be face to face once more."

"Charlotte. You have your own life now. And do not kid yourself, my lady. It is the life you chose."

"But-"

"I asked you... we were lying in bed and I asked you to not do it."

"But I told you..." the emotions bubbling in her chest, "why I had to-"

"Charlotte. I am more than just someone's secret. You vowed your commitment to another man in front of your family and his."

"But I..." She shook her head to try and clear it. She looked at him with her brow creased in grief. "You think I shouldn't have gone through with it?"

"I think... I no longer wish to torture myself over things that will never happen." She looked at him wounded. "I'm sorry Charlotte. You made your choice." He gave her a polite bow and exited the room. It felt as if someone had dealt her a blow right to her stomach. She folded in half and almost fell to her knees.

 

She eventually regained herself and glided up the stairs like a spectre, face hollowed out in sorrow. She passed Sebastian's room where he was reading in a large chair by the fire. He looked up when he saw her in the doorway.

She stared at him for a long time. Her face seemed paler than normal and he could see she was the verge of tears. "Did you know he was here the whole time?" her voice cracked.

"No!" He sprung out of his seat and went over to her. "Charlotte, I swear, I didn't know."

She thought about that for a moment then looked him in the eyes. "If you had known, would you have told me?"

He looked at her until he eventually lowered his head and stared at the floor. "No." He whispered softly.

She nodded and turned around. "Good night Sebastian."

"Charlotte!" He called after her. "It wouldn't have made a diff-" He stopped after she had disappeared down the hallway and he heard her door click shut.


	21. Chapter 21

Castle Combe, February 1816

Lord Evans found her in her bedroom. She was sitting in the window seat looking out the dirty glass at the darkening landscape. She was still in her dressing gown and barefoot despite the fact it was the afternoon. Chris, in fact, was looking for her because she had missed breakfast and lunch. She occasionally took a meal in her room but for her to make no appearance on the main floor all day was unlike her.

He knocked gently on the door frame to avoid alarming her. "Charlotte, is everything all right?"

She answered without looking at him. "Of course."

"It's just that... well, it's very nearly tea time and no one has seen you all day."

"Oh? I shouldn't think anyone would miss me overly much."

Chris frowned. "You mustn't be so sullen. You are still the lady of the house. Your presence, or lack thereof, is noticed."

She shrugged. "Well, I'll make sure I put on my most convincing smile and make a grand, unforgettable entrance at dinner."

Christopher sighed and decided to try something else. "Charlotte, people are worried."

She finally turned to him, a look of incredulity on her face. "Really?"

His eyebrows creased and his face showed real concern. "I am worried."

"Really?"

"Yes." He looked behind him and quietly shut her door. "Charlotte," he walked over and gently took her hands in his, "You have not been yourself since you came back from London."

Her glance fell to her lap. "Oh?"

"You used to love the horses, yet you barely ride anymore. On rainy days, you would be curled up in the library- now that room is always empty and echoing. And when was the last time you played the piano? The thing sits in the parlour gathering dust."

Her face betrayed no emotion. "I'll send Jeanette to polish it then."

"That is not what I meant." He frowned. "This house used to have a certain bounce and a light to it whenever you were present. Now you come and go with no one taking notice. It is as if a part of you is gone."

"You are very astute, dear husband. I haven't been myself lately." She took a deep breath, unsure if she should confide in him or not. She looked up, into his clear, blue eyes and for some reason they made her very sad. "I'm sorry, my lord. I do sometimes wish I could shrug off this grey cloud that seems to follow me but I fear this melancholy is here to stay. But, honestly, it is no concern of yours. I continue to do my wifely duties."

Christopher frowned. "That is not what I am most worried about." He looked away. "Though it is a but frustrating. Trying to make love to someone whose mind is somewhere very far away."

"I thought you would prefer that." She said dispassionately. "Easier to pretend I was someone else. You never were interested in actually trying to love me. Even when I tried to turn your head, my silly little desires only took you away from your beloved Viola."

"You knew from the beginning I would never leave her. The agreement was to be your husband, not your lover. And I wanted a wife, not a ghost." Charlotte looked unmoved. He took his hands away and walked away from her. "You know the point of our lovemaking is not to satisfy anyone's desires. I need an heir." She continued to avoid his gave. "I need an heir SOON."

"I know, my lord." She said softly. "You're right."

Chris reached for the door and started to walk out. "Then I hope you can get over whatever this gloominess is all about. I'll see you in my room tonight."

 

April, 1816

Charlotte became better at pretending to enjoy her role as Lady Evans. Those who saw her would only see the smiling, meticulously dressed duchess who made sure the manor house ran smoothly. She tried to find pleasure in the guests that appreciated her renovations to the estate or the way she had brought a touch of modernity to the decorating. But it was all very superficial. A green carpet instead of a burgundy one. Airy drapes in place of heavy velvet curtains. She wondered if she would ever feel real happiness again. She found no joy in conversation or drink or food. She began to read again but it was always non-fiction. Histories. Biographies. Religion. She would go for walks in the woods but couldn't muster the energy to ever ride her horse again. But she was always pleasant enough when company came over. Chris seemed satisified that she was at least making an effort to portray his devoted wife though she felt she was acting a part in a never-ending play.

"Charlotte?" Chris came to her one afternoon as she was selecting her jewelry for the evening. "I know the dinner we have for the townsfolk isn't your favorite event of the year but it would be lovely for them to see you enjoying yourself. Perhaps some refreshments will help? We are having cocktails before the feast tonight. The villagers usually choose either wine or ale but you and I could share a bottle of my father's finest whiskey. He's been hiding this one he bought in the Highlands over twenty years ago."

She smiled. "Sounds delightful. I look forward to it."

Chris looked over her shoulder to the window behind her. "Looks like it's going to rain."

"Yes. I can't wait for all those muddy boots mucking up our entryway and the smell of a hundred peasants in dirty, wet clothes wafting through the air."

Chris gave her a reproachful look. "It's only for one night."

She nodded. "Yes, my lord."

**************************************

The scotch was tasty and quite strong. Charlotte barely could finish her second glass before she felt herself growing warm and things seemed to get a little blurry. She had been trying to enjoy the festivities but it all seemed so loud. The spectacle of an entire roasted pig on the table made her nauseous and the chicken feet swirling in the soup broth drained the color from her face. She looked away from the food and at her guests. Her pristine dining hall, her lace and linen tablecloth, were both now subject to cackling ladies unused to such potent wine and men spilling beer and belching. And the weather outside was not helping. Rain was drumming on the glass and every clap of thunder elicited a roar from the visitors.

"Are you all right?" Chris whispered to her. She didn't answer. Instead she watched as a crystal goblet, full of dark red wine, was knocked to the floor and shattered while the man next to her spooned a heaping, noisy helping of rice pudding onto his plate. It was all too much for her. She quietly excused herself, placed her napkin on the table and left the room. Once in the hallway and away from all those eyes, she ran. She rushed outside, into the storm, and kept running until she was sure no one could see her.

 

She gulped for air, like she was drowning, completely overwhelmed. Her eyes couldn't seem to focus on anything until she heard a voice call her name.

"Charlotte!" At the sound of his voice she sank to her knees, overcome with emotion. "Charlotte!" He knelt in front of her and saw the wild, desperate look in his wife's eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She sobbed out. The wind was whipping her hair everywhere and pelting their faces. "I'm sorry I can't do this anymore." Chris looked hurt but resigned. He touched her cheek and tried to wipe away both tears and precipitation. "I don't belong here. I'm sorry. I really wanted this to work. I tried. I really did try. But I can't do this anymore." He combed his fingers through her hair, unsure of how to comfort her. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists. "You deserve everything, my lord. A child, many children, a loving family, a wife who loves you." Chris clenched his jaw and began to shake his head. She laid her hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. "You're a good man who deserves a good woman." She looked down and her hot tears mingled with cold rain. The weight of everything clutched at her chest. "I am not good."

He shook his head. "Charlotte, that's not true. Perhaps we can start over. We can try harder. I have been awful lately. Selfish. Unfair to you and absent when my wife needed me most."

"Oh my lord..." She smiled sadly. "You are a knight. And I'm just a hedonistic fool. An idiot who should cling to the one pure thing in her life but instead..." she swallowed hard. "I'm a spoiled child who can't stop pouting because I didn't get everything I wanted."

"We have both been acting pretty petulantly." He continued to stroke the sides of her face. "I don't think we ever wanted to hurt each other."

"No..." she shook her head. "Never, my lord." There was a change in her expression, a flicker of something other than regret that came over her face. The way she regarded him, he had seen it a few times times before but he only now understood what it meant. He looked away and tried not to weep himself.

"Charlotte?" his voice croaked out. "Could you have ever loved me? Truly?"

She bit her lip and took a moment to answer. "How could I claim a heart that already belonged to Viola?"

He seemed to nod wearily. "Yes."

"Christopher?" She spoke and her voice sounded faint and fatigued. The rain continued to drench them through their evening finery. "I'm miserable."

He looked at her, water cascading off his shoulders and pooling in the divot under his nose. "I'm miserable too."

She laughed, her first, honest laugh in a very long time. "We are the worst husband and wife."

He couldn't help but chuckle a little as well. "Yeah..." he shook his head. "At least we finally agree on something." She laughed a little more. "So..." he took her hand in his, and kissed it tenderly. "Maybe we should not try to be that anymore." She exhaled and her shoulders sank. Her eyes welled up again but this time in gratitude. His smile faded a little. "There will be much to sort out."

"Aye. Many people will be upset."

He agreed and winced as another boom of thunder seemed to erupt over their heads. He looked at her, blinking against the rain and he noticed her lips fading from pink to blue. "My god, you're soaked."

"So are you, my lord." she smiled. He pushed a sopping strand of hair from his face and stood up. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

When they reentered the great hall, they were bedraggled but beaming, and also, holding hands.

"There you are!" The elder Evans shouted. "What the devil were you two doing out in the rain?" Neither Chris nor Charlotte knew quite how to answer that. Chris's father continued, "Well who am I to judge the private goings on of a man and his wife? If running around during a storm is what you both fancy, then enjoy the monsoon, I say."

Chris and Charlotte exchanged a look. "We will need to get changed, then we will rejoin you all for dessert." Chris announced to his guests before he and Charlotte made their way upstairs.

His father took a giant swig of his beverage and watched them leave with a giant grin in his face. Turning to the man beside him he sighed contentedly. "Ahh.. wedded bliss. You know, I've never seen the two of them look happier together."


	22. Chapter 22

London, Six Months Later

Sebastian caused quite a stir in the rundown Hackney neighborhood of London as he stepped out of his elegantly adorned carriage. He made sure to bring his tallest, strongest footmen with him on these visits though they did nothing to assuage the dread he felt whenever he came here.

He knocked on the door and and his sister greeted him with a smile and a warm hug. "So glad you cold join me for tea."

"Well, I do love our little chats." He hugged her back and stepped inside. She took out two cups and saucers and placed them on the counter before pouring the water that had been boiling on the stove over the delicate tea leaves.

"So... Charlotte..." Sebastian started without the need for small talk. "Have you heard from Christopher lately?"

She shook her head. "Not very often anymore. At first he would send letters every other week or so but... it has been a month or two since I have heard from him." She smiled bravely. "He seems very happy though and I understand. I doubt thinks of me much anymore."

"No plans to visit then?" He asked and her expression gave him enough of an answer. "Are you going to lock yourself away like this forever?"

"I'm not locked away." She chuckled. "I go out all the time." She saw his countenance grow concerned, "But never after dark, I promise."

He narrowed his eyes like he didn't believe her but he let the matter rest. "And you are sure you don't need anything? Money? I mean... a woman all alone... It can't be easy to make a living. How do you get by?"

"I work at the bookstore on the corner a few days a week."

"Work?" He pretended to be aghast at the concept. "Sounds dreadful."

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her brother. "I love it. I get to read or talk about books all day. And I also give piano lessons to some of the neighbors' children."

"People pay you to teach their children piano?"

She was bemused and knew what was coming. "Yes, Sebastian."

"Have they heard you play?" She shook her head with a warm smile. He grinned at her in return, his eyes twinkling. "I miss you, Charlotte. I know why you won't come live with me and Elizabeth, but I do wish you would visit occasionally. Is it really that emotional to come back to Mayfair?"

"Not emotional... more like walking into a memory. Many good ones. Some... not good. But it's all the past, and that is where I wish to leave it."

"You're not lonely?"

"Never lonely when you have a good book. Isn't that what mum used to say? I also have that cat who always comes by the back door. I put milk out one night when it was freezing and I haven't gotten rid of him since."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, knowing his sister couldn't resist a soul in need. "As long as you haven't named him."

She looked at him guiltily. He gave her a loud harrumph. "Sebastian, I know this life must seem so small to you. It is certainly no where near as exciting as the one we used to enjoy, but this... this is mine. It belongs only to me. Not father, or Chris, or you... just me. I don't owe anyone anything. And I come and go as I please. That freedom is worth far more to me than being a duchess or a fancy dress."

Sebastian stared into his cup before looking around the small room. He noticed a stack of petitions and a bright sash hanging on the coat rack and he gestured to it. "A friend of Elizabeth Heyrick, I presume?" She smiled proudly, he looked grim. "You know, activist women handing out pamphlets and organizing rallies aren't exactly the most popular members of society."

"Popularity is no longer important to me."

Sebastian shook his head. "Well, I guess its good to see you still have a little of that spark left. Fighting for what you believe in?"

"I am now."

"Father would be proud of you."

She grimaced. "I doubt it."

Sebastian looked at her warmly. "I am proud of you." That made her cheeks warm and he studied her face which had grown increasingly hard to read as of late. "Are you happy?"

She seemed to think about that for a while. "I'm content." She finally answered.

He frowned and she tried to reassure him. "Sebastian, I don't know if I'm the sort who will ever be 'happy' but I find things that make me smile every day." She sensed his worry and lightly rested her hand on his arm. "I promise. I am all right."

He seemed to accept that. "Very well then, Charlotte." He stood up, gathering his tall, black hat and kissed her forehead. "Please, do take care of yourself, sweet sister."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I promise." She kissed his cheek and waved good bye as he walked down her front steps and into his transport.

********************

Sebastian arrived home and immediately threw open his wardrobe and starting folding clothes and setting them in his trunk.

"Darling?" his wife inquired as she came in their bedroom and saw him packing.

"I'm sorry, love. Bit of an urgent matter. I'm going to visit an old acquaintance."

"Right this very minute?"

"Indeed. I'm afraid my sister depends on it." He shut the lid and latched his luggage shut. He passed by her on his way to call for the butler to bring his trunk to the waiting carriage. "It will only be a few days, love. At least I hope so." He caressed her face and kissed her gently on the lips. "Try not to miss me overly much."

 

Charlotte tried to contain her excitement as the leather-bound book was presented to her. It was a new collection of some of Robespierre's most powerful speeches along with engravings of the man and carefully preserved leaflets from his political assemblies. It was exquisite and, though some of the pages showed signs of wear, it was a treasure.

She wished she could take it home. Curl up on her threadbare chaise and devour the whole thing in one tea-fueled sitting. But alas, there was no way she could afford such a prized volume now. Not anymore. She would have to console herself with reading what she could in between helping the patrons who came through the door and then after, if she was allowed to stay late, she could read for a bit after the shop was closed.

As the afternoon dragged on, she counted the minutes before closing time and she was free to pour over every detail. She watched the sun sink behind the cityscape and the customers at the bookstore become thin. As the shop emptied out and people went home or to hotels for dinner, Charlotte ducked into the back and boiled some water for tea. She lovingly steeped the leaves, taking in the flowery, earthy aroma and allowed herself a single cube of sugar. She set her drink on the counter and took the tome out from its safe space beside the register. Her fingers traced the fine detail of the cover and flipped to the intricate lettering of the page marked 'Essay-1784. Awarded Medal from the Academy of Metz'. She took a sip of her beverage, felt the warmth cascade down her throat and began to read.

At that moment the bell above the door rang, signaling a customer had entered. "Damn." she whispered under her breath. "Every time." She lovingly closed the book and put it back in its hiding place before returning her cup and saucer to the back room.

When she reentered the main racks of the store she froze. She stared at him, unsure if she was seeing a ghost. He stared back and she wondered if she looked as utterly lost as he did.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked.

"Your brother told me you'd be here."

"Sebastian?"

"He is very worried about you."

She sighed. "I thought you said you would never come back."

He looked down at the floor. "I did."

"Somehow Sebastian's golden tongue and endless charm convinced you otherwise when I could not?"

"I did not come here because of him. He only provided the means, not the why."

"So why are you here?"

"Because since the moment you stumbled into my room in the middle of the night all those years ago, you have never left my thoughts. It was incredible when we were together in London, but now, it is hard to bear. It is as if you are haunting me. I have tried, milady. I sincerely have tried to fill the hole in my heart with other things, other diversions, but it is all in vain. Everything I try only confirms what I always knew. I am not whole unless you are with me. Joy, anger, fear...all of these emotions are diminished in the absence of your presence. There is a fire inside my soul that is only ignited when I am around you. And I know you feel the same. I see it in the way you look at me. Like I could accomplish anything. Like we could conquer anything, together. It killed me the last time I saw you. How much your ardor hadn't waned. When you saw me at Chelmsford and your face changed from moonlight to sunshine- all because of me. How you emanated a radiance when you saw my paintings and that spark in your expression when you were rambling about art shows and spending time together again." He stopped and she saw his pained visage. "And how that light was extinguished in a moment when I told you no." He shook his head sadly. "To see your light go out... and to know it was because of me... that... that haunted me. I couldn't sleep. I wanted so desperately to see you again...but I didn't know how. And then Sebastian showed up. Gregg has always loved your family, you know. After speaking with me, your brother and I talked to him."

Charlotte didn't appear to understand what he was getting at. "He has offered us his servants' cottage. It's not very large, only two rooms. You can barely fit a bed in there. And there's no stove, so we'll have to take our meals with him in the main house. But it's only temporary until we find somewhere more suitable."

Her eyes welled up with tears and he walked over to her, tenderly taking her hands in his own. "Charlotte, you were wrong to choose Christopher over me. I was very hurt but I was wrong to continue to condemn you for it. Perhaps it is time we forgave each other and started anew."

"Anthony..."

"I know what I have to offer you is not a castle in the Cotswolds or a town house in the Mayfair district. I know how much you love London, Charlotte."

"Fuck London!" She breathed out.

He was caught off guard and exhaled a small laugh. "Really?"

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. She kissed his cheek and looked up at him. "What did I tell you, Anthony? The first time I came back from Castle Combe?" Anthony didn't appear to recollect so she reminded him. "Home isn't a manor house or a luxurious flat. Home is where you are." He smiled and kissed her softly. "But Anthony... I am divorced from Christopher. I cannot marry anyone again."

Anthony appeared to consider that for a moment and then shrugged. "I don't need to call you my wife to know you will love me forever."

She looked at him, and stared in his dark, warm eyes. "No... I will stay with you. And not because of some vow, or a ring, or a document that binds me to you. But because everyday I draw breath I couldn't imagine spending it with anyone other than you."

Anthony smiled. A relieved smile that seemed to melt away all doubt and past regret.

"I love you, Charlotte."

"I love you, Anthony."

His arms encircled her waist and he drew her close to her, kissing her longingly and yet sweetly. When he finally pulled away he pressed his forehead to hers. "Come... let's have the life and the love we deserve. Come home with me."

 

Epilogue

"So you and grandpa were never married?"

"Couldn't be. Leaving Christopher meant it would literally take an act of Parliament to marry again."

"You never got a ring?" The young girl looked very upset.

Charlotte chuckled. "Oh my little dear heart. What use would I have for a ring on my finger when your grandfather was always holding my hand?"

The young girl seemed unimpressed. "I don't know what the big deal was. Lord Evans sounds very handsome. And he had a castle and horses... and grandpa is just... old."

Charlotte laughed. "Oh my darling, not to me. I still think your grandfather is the most handsome man in the entire world." The girl wrinkled her nose. "You'll see one day, child... Grandpa didn't always have that white hair. Just like I didn't always have these wrinkles. They're blessings, love. Symbols of a long, rich life. God willing you will grow old and grey one day as well. And you'll have your own amazing tales to tell."

A woman in her early thirties poked her head into the tiny room. "Is Grandma telling one of her stories again?"

The little girl nodded happily. "Yes, mama. I love to hear about her and Uncle Sebastian and Grampa and..."

"She shouldn't be filling your head with all that romantic nonsense." She looked at her mother in mock reproach. "Girls should have a bit of practicality and wits about them."

Charlotte nodded, smoothing her skirts and combing a few fingers through her thick grey hair. "Aye, you're right. But a bit of whimsy is healthy too."

"Dreams are best kept to the sleeping hours, mum."

The older woman turned to the child, "I suppose your mother is right. Best you be getting to bed then."

The young girl threw her arms around her grandmother's neck. "Good night, Gramma."

Charlotte kissed her forehead. "Good night, Shannon. See you in the morning."

As the child scampered down the hall, her mother turned back to the elderly woman. "You'll have her searching her whole life for some fairy tale prince charming."

"Perhaps... but sometimes the fairy tale comes true." Charlotte smiled.

Her daughter gave her an exasperated sigh. "Good night, mama."

"Good night dear."

THE END


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